Won't Back Down
by Thorne Lockehart
Summary: "You can sound the alarm, you can call out your dogs, you can fence in your yard, you can hold all the cards, but I won't back down." Frankie/OC
1. First Case, New People

**_A/N: So...this is my first Rizzoli and Isles fanfiction, please be kind to me! It's been turning around in my head for about a month, and I always say that if that happens, that this is an idea that my muse is wanting me to write. This is a Frankie/OC story, so I hope you all like it! This has been in the works for longer than a month, so be patient with me!_**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own anyone in Rizzoli and Isles, everyone goes to their rightful owners. I own Isabella Zuko. No one else._**

**_Summary: Isabella Zuko becomes newly-appointed Detective Frankie Rizzoli's partner and the no-fraternization rule of the department becomes a big issue as two detectives fight rising attraction._**

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><p><em>Now I'm stronger than yesterday<em>

_Now it's nothing but my way_

_My loneliness ain't killing me no more_

_I'm, I'm stronger than I ever thought that I could be, baby_

_I used to go with the flow_

_Didn't really care about me_

_You might think that I can't take it_

_But you're wrong_

Britney Spears — Stronger

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><p>Isabella Zuko's lip curled as she walked down the streets of Boston. From New York City originally, she was on Red Sox turf. She had been divorced from her FBI agent husband for two years now. It turned out that confidence was only attractive in theory, and a romance between an FBI agent and a CSI-turned-Homicide detective would have never worked out.<p>

She straightened out her blue button-down work shirt over her jeans and tightened her ponytail. Isabella had long raven hair, always pulled back into a ponytail. Her bangs flopped into her face, partially shrouding her bright blue eyes. She was petite, there was no way she would be able to pass off as a tall person, but she thought of it as a good thing. She liked to stand out in the world. In New York, she had worked alongside people who were super-tall, super-thin and athletic, and super-attractive.

"Here you are, ma'am," a policeman said, holding the door open for her. She smiled in thanks and stepped over the threshold of the Boston Police Department. She was in.

"I'm Isabella Zuko," she said, her thick Queens accent making her stick out that much more. She pulled out her ID from her wallet, flashing it to the uniformed guard. He held out his hand and she unzipped her boots, setting them in a tub and pulling out her cellphone and keys. Anything that would set off the detector went into the tub.

"Alright, welcome to the Boston PD, Detective Zuko," the guard said, handing back her stuff. She nodded to him and pulled her boots back on, zipping them back up.

"Thank you," she replied, sliding her keys back into her pocket. Her wallet went back into her front pocket, the bulk of it sticking out. She tightened her ponytail again and pushed open the door to the bullpen. It was vastly different from the NYPD, it was more secure. People bustled about, carrying files and chatter filled the air. It was that first day of school feel as she muttered apologies to people as she bumped into them.

"Detective Zuko?" someone asked. Isabella looked up and met the eyes of a young man, around her age. He had dark hair and brown eyes.

"Yeah, that's me," she replied hesitantly. He held out his hand.

"I'm your new partner, Frankie Rizzoli," he introduced himself. She reached out and shook his hand firmly.

"Call me Isabella," she told him. He was good-looking, she noticed. Frankie had a boyish face and eyes that reminded her of a puppy.

"I was told to pick you up, we actually have a case," he said. She nodded to show her understanding.

"Uh, sure, let me grab my badge and I'll be ready to go," she replied with a soft smile. He pointed to her desk, the only clean desk in the entire bullpen.

Her smile widened. "Thanks." She found her way over and pulled open the drawer. A gold-plated badge shone back at her, along with a service weapon.

"You're not gonna give me a lecture about the hopes and safeties of the city, are you?" she asked, her voice warm with amusement. He shook his head.

"I just became a detective myself. They give you that talk when you graduate from the academy," he assured her. She clipped the holster to her belt and slid her gun in, hearing it click as it set itself. The badge came next, near her gun.

"Ready?" she asked. He led her out of the bullpen and to the car.

* * *

><p>The crime scene was in the driveway of someone's home, the tape crossed from the tree to the mailbox and around the garage. The body of a young boy lay face-down, his limbs sprawled out. Isabella's heart sank as she ducked under the tape. The little African-American boy couldn't have been more than eight or nine years old.<p>

"Guys, this is Detective Zuko, the new transfer from the NYPD," Frankie said. Isabella gave a slight wave and accept a pair of latex gloves from an officer. She slid them on and bent down next to the body. Prior to working Homicide, she had been a crime scene investigator.

"What's his name?" she asked gently. A pretty redhead looked up at her from her bent-down position as well.

"Henry Wallace, he's nine years old," she replied. The victim was the same age as Isabella's nephew, James. Isabella's gaze dropped to the victim's ear and her eyes widened.

"He's deaf," she commented, pointing to the hearing aid. "Or partially."

"How did you know?" the redhead asked. Isabella opened Henry's ear a bit, showing the hearing aid.

"My nephew James is deaf," she explained. "But the cool thing is about these are that they don't just convey sound, they record it, too."

"We might have a recording of this little boy's murder," another woman murmured. Isabella's eyes wandered to the yard, where a ball was perched on the grass.

"Who plays basketball in the grass?" she asked aloud, standing up.

"Good eye," someone else congratulated. Isabella walked onto the grass and picked up the ball.

"I worked Crime Scene before I transferred to Homicide. You'll get prints and epithelial DNA off of this, I'm sure," she informed a tech. She prodded the ball, feeling its firmness under her fingers before handing it to him.

It was thrilling, really. Her first case and it was about something she was familiar with: special-needs children. Her older sister's son James was deaf, and Eva was autistic. Eva was low-functioning autistic with OCD, so she could barely talk.

A little array of scarlet drops were on the sidewalk and Isabella bent down to look. It was high-velocity blood spatter.

"He was attacked here and Henry went to go inside to call 911 or get his mother," she said. There was a void and she tilted her head, her instincts as a CSU coming out to play.

"Where did you say you were from?" someone cracked a joke. Her head rose and she met the eyes of a middle-aged heavyset man.

"New York. You know, where the Yankees reside. The same Yankees that kicked the Red Sox's ass last night," she retorted.

"That game was fixed!" the man said. She chuckled and turned her attention back to the scene.

"I think we have a hate crime," she commented.


	2. The Demons In Her Past

**_A/N: Oh, yay, I was so pleasantly surprised to get reviews on this! Let me know how I write Frankie's point of view...I hope I keep him in character! _**

**_RaiN: Ha ha, nice to see I tickled your fancy. And you caught on! Isabella Zuko is Isabella Pacino! Thanks for still being a supporter of 'Flacino' lol. I think 'Rizzuko' will be pretty awesome! Thanks for such a heartwarming review!_**

**_Dark: Thank you! I think mine is the first Frankie/OC story...I think Maura and Frankie would be cute, but it's hard to really capture the essence of the characters in fanfiction, because you have to rely on your inner writer skills to make your character come to life. Thanks for the review!_**

**_Angel: Thank you! First chapters are always so awkward to write...glad to know I caught your attention._**

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><p><em>I'm sick of all the insincere<em>

_So I'm gonna give all my secrets away_

_This time, don't need another perfect line_

_Don't care if the critics never jump in line_

One Republic — Secrets

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><p><em>"I've got you now," an all-too familiar voice snarled in her ear as she stood there, powerless to stop her own personal boogeyman. <em>

_"I won't let you win," she said, her voice breaking. Diego Vasquez stood before her, his head tilted backwards. His large body shook with laughter as the demonic cackle filled the air. _

_"You already have," his smooth voice echoed in her ears as his hands wound around her slender throat, cutting off all air supply. Her body hit the floor with a thud as he continued to wreak havoc on her life._

"No!" she gasped. She bolted upright, her body broken out in a cold sweat. Isabella looked at the radio alarm clock on the nightstand, her breathing coming out as hyperventilation. It was four in the morning, far too early to be awake. She continued to tremble and she looked around on her bed for Chachi, her Rottweiler. The great canine was curled on the other side of the bed, snoring away. It was clear that she wouldn't be going back to sleep anytime soon, as Diego Vasquez haunted her thoughts. When Isabella had been seventeen, Diego Vasquez had been a part of one of the most notorious gangs in Queens and hadn't taken no for an answer. He had nearly killed her brother, Levi when he had tried to protect her. After that, he had continued to stalk and terrorize her to transferring out of New York. Right now, her biggest fear was that Diego would follow her to Boston.

She got up and went into the bathroom to take a shower to calm down. After the steam and the heat of the hot water had ultimately calmed her down, she felt ready to go back to sleep. Isabella wiped the steam away from the mirror and saw Diego's reflection behind her.

Gasping wildly, she whirled around and saw nothing. She slapped her cheek and ran her hand through her wet hair.

"God, Pacino, keep it together," she muttered, calling herself by her maiden name for the first time in three years. She finally pulled her pajamas back on and flipped on her radio onto something soft. Classical music always put her right out.

* * *

><p>Isabella dragged her feet sluggishly into the bullpen the next morning, her eyes puffy with lack of sleep and it ultimately made her cranky. Her clothes were wrinkled and she was fairly certain that they probably didn't match.<p>

"Good morning, sunshine," someone cracked. She waved them off as she looked at the board. God, she was exhausted.

"My dog kept me up," she lied. She smoothed her bangs out of her face as she tried to wake up more. Never in her life had she craved caffeine more. "Is there coffee?"

Wordlessly, everyone pointed to the direction of a cafe. Isabella lifted her hand in thanks and found her way over. A bright, sunny middle-aged woman with long hair smiled at her.

"Hi there, honey, what can I get for you?" she asked. Isabella blinked tiredly as she strained to read the menu. In her haste to get ready, she had forgotten to put in her contact lenses.

"I'll just take the plain bagel and cream cheese, please," she said. "And an extra-large coffee with two shots of espresso."

The woman's smile widened as she pulled the things out to make the food. "You must be the new detective," she said. Isabella mustered a smile in return.

"Word travels fast, I see," she commented. The woman set down the cup and shook her head.

"Just saying," she replied with a shrug. The name 'Angela' was now visible on her nametag. "Would you like your bagel toasted?"

Isabella nodded gratefully. "Thank you," she replied. She laid the money down for the food and took a sip of the coffee. The hot liquid burned down her throat and she shook her head.

"Quite a kick, huh," Angela smiled. Isabella smiled sheepishly.

"Ma, can I get my usual, please?" Frankie's voice caused her to turn around. She waved a little and took another sip of coffee. He sat down beside her. "Late night?"

She shrugged and nodded. "Woke up in the middle of the night with my dog halfway on top of me," she replied. It wasn't a straight-out lie; Chachi had wound up rolling all over her.

"Joe Friday's my sister's dog, she's the same way. I swear, if she's not on one side of the bed, she'll lay right on top of ya," he said. Isabella took the toasted bagel with the cream cheese spread nicely over it.

"Thank you," she told Angela, taking a bite of the still-warm bagel. "My dog was a rescue on one of the raids I did back in New York. Poor little guy was chained to a doghouse and he looked like a skeleton with fur." She remembered the little puppy's stumpy tail curved downwards, a clear indication of fear.

_"It's okay, little guy," Isabella cooed, bending down to the tiny black and tan puppy's level. She clicked her tongue and patted the earth in front of her. It was freezing cold out, well below freezing. She pulled out a piece of beef jerky from her messenger bag, holding it out to him. If she didn't get the puppy out now, he would freeze to death. The poor little dog had no fat to keep him warm. He finally stood up on spindly legs and craned out his neck. He snapped the jerky up in his jaws, chomping it down hungrily. Afterwards, he sat down on the ground and watched her. As if to say "Have anymore of that?"_

_It wasn't long before he let Isabella pet his side slowly. It was hard not to show horror as she felt each rib of the puppy. He couldn't have been more than a month old, maybe six weeks tops. _

_"C'mon, little dude. I'm gonna take you home with me," she told him. He whined when she stepped backwards. It had turned out she was the only other human he had been in contact with besides his owner. _

_"The little shit pooped on the floor, so I put him outside to teach him a lesson," were his owner's words. Isabella had to hold herself back from flinging herself at him._

_"And you just left him out there with no food and no water?" she demanded, slapping the cold steel table. She had named the little puppy 'Chachi' and he would be living with her. Currently, Chachi was getting dewormed and getting his shots. _

_"He needed to learn a lesson," the owner merely replied. Isabella waved to the uniformed officer._

_"Get this sick bastard out of my sight before I lose it," she snarled. _

"Makes you feel good about what you do, right?" Frankie asked. She smiled to herself and nodded.

"Yep. Chachi's now a big, healthy boy. He's my big teddy bear, but he hates being put outside," she replied.

"Chachi...after Chachi Arcola?" Frankie asked. Isabella laughed lightly.

"Not a lot of people get the allusion, but yes. I was watching 'Happy Days' after I had brought him home. When Fonzie called for Chachi, the puppy lifted his head. I just assumed that the Fonz named my dog," she replied fondly. It was odd how she was able to make conversation with someone based on something so small. She squinted at the cup in her hand, wishing her sight wasn't so blurry. This meant she had to track down her glasses, which wouldn't be so bad if she didn't have to keep them from falling down her nose.

* * *

><p>Frankie followed Isabella to the morgue, where Maura had said she had some results on Henry Wallace.<p>

"Autopsy confirmed my suspicions at the scene," Maura said. "Henry died of exsanguination, due to sharp-force trauma to the jugular vein."

Isabella let out a mutter and shook her head. "No parent should ever outlive their child."

"Any clue to the murder weapon?" Frankie asked. The pretty redhead shook her head.

"It's very small in size and it's clean. No tearing around the edges," she answered.

"Meaning that the weapon was sharp, not blunt," Isabella pointed out. Maura nodded in surprise.

"How did you know that?" she asked. Frankie turned his attention to the petite New York native. Her baby blue eyes were deep in thought and she twisted her mouth before answering.

"I was a crime scene investigator before transferring to Homicide," she replied. "Knowing this was part of my job description."

"If you found a potential murder weapon, could you prove it?" Maura asked. Isabella fidgeted a bit and nodded.

"Get me the proper tools and I can do a lot of things," she responded.


	3. Rookie Steps Up

**_A/N: Okay...I am going to be a very cranky person tomorrow...I may as well not even sleep tonight because I have to get up at the ass-crack of dawn because I have to be at my sister's house at six thirty in the freaking morning e.e. It takes me an hour to get ready, so I have to be up at five or four thirty in order to be ready on time. This sucks twice..._**

**_RaiN: Well, she got married, hence the name change! But then she got divorced...I agree, if there's any Frankie stories, they're paired up with Maura! I dunno...we don't get to see a lot of Frankie and I absolutely adore Frankie! He's so cute! But you of all people know that Don Flack is king in my heart xD_**

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><p><em>So, get ready here I come<em>

_Until the job is done_

_No time to risk, there's nothing stopping me_

_Oh, but you don't hear me though_

_So, now it's time to show_

_And prove I'm gonna be the best I can be_

Joanna Pacitti — Watch Me Shine

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><p>The knowledge of the fact Isabella didn't need to process evidence anymore was one that was always bittersweet.<p>

"Hey, Maura found something that gives us a clue to the murder weapon," Frankie said. Isabella looked up, a bit startled to hear his voice while she was so deep in thought. She looked away quickly and tucked a lock of dark hair behind her ear.

"Sure, let me finish up and I'm all yours," she replied, turning her attention back to her computer. She shut down the computer and stood up. "But you do know that this is only my third day and you'd better count your lucky stars that I even remember your name."

Frankie shook his head with a chuckle. "Hey, you work here permanently, right? You got a while to learn all of our names here," he assured her. Isabella raised an eyebrow as she followed him out.

"You overestimate me. I'm lucky if I can remember which sibling of mine is whom," she scoffed. Her mind turned to her siblings. By order of age, she had Armando (Levi), Evangeline, Ian, and Teagan. Ian and Teagan were two years younger than Isabella, a set of fraternal twins. Sometime soon, she would have to give them a call. Evangeline, or 'Evan', had James and Ava as her kids.

"Hey, my ma's the same way. For the longest time, I thought my name was 'Tommy-Jane-Frank whateveryournameis'," Frankie joked. Isabella let out a laugh. She could definitely relate.

"Oh, same here," she agreed. Her father, Armando Pacino the Second hadn't been around a lot growing up. He had to keep his family distant from him, but kept in contact when he had a chance. He was still connected to the Pacino crime family in New York, which had constantly put Isabella and her sisters in danger more than her brothers, because of their being women. Siobhan O'Malley, Isabella's mother had worked several jobs to support her five children. It had made them all stronger people in the long run.

When they pulled up to the field, crime scene tape was wrapped around a couple of trees.

"Boy, you guys don't mess around, do ya?" she muttered under her breath as they walked up. She looked at the ground, where a sharpened pump hose laid in the grass. Something red was sticking from it and she looked up at someone.

"'Ey, someone get me some luminol and a Q-tip, please," she requested, looking up. When the tools were handed to her, she slipped on her gloves and lifted the hose. She swabbed the hose and spritzed the luminol onto the cotton swab. It shone bright florescent pink. Positive for blood.

"Positive for blood," she announced. She looked around for a blood test kit and found one in one of the tech's kits. "Damn, I miss this job sometimes."

She laid a piece of cotton onto the screen and placed a few drops of solution onto it. Two lines appeared.

"This blood's human," she said. She stood up and saw a crime scene technician glare balefully at her.

"Are you qualified to do those kinds of tests?" he demanded. He stood only a few inches taller than her and his blonde hair hung in his face, emphasizing his square jaw. Isabella tossed her head to flip her bangs out of her face and she surveyed the man.

"What are you, the crime scene troll? As a matter of fact, I am qualified to do those tests. I worked Crime Scene Unit prior to my transfer to Homicide and we may have found our murder weapon that could put a killer behind bars. So instead of busting my balls about my qualifications, let's quit yakking and start processing. Understood?" she snapped. Silently, the tech nodded. She nodded curtly to him before sliding her gloves off.

"'Bout time someone put that jackass in his place," someone muttered under her breath. Isabella's gaze locked on hers and she had to fight her amusement. She was a tall, exotic-looking brunette with olive skin and strong features.

"Yeah, not bad for a Yankee," Isabella returned before closing the kit.

"Looks like her height isn't the only thing that's short," she heard the lippy tech sneer loudly and she stood up.

"Look, you're barely taller than I am, so it's more of an even playing field here," she started to say. Everyone was quiet as she continued. "Chances are, I was an investigator before you even graduated high school, so do me a favor, eh? Shut your trap or you won't like how I'll do it for you."

"You threatening me, shorty?" the tech sneered. Isabella's eyes narrowed into tiny slits at the insult.

"You misunderstand me, my friend. Little boys with little dicks make threats. I make promises. No bodily harm comes to you, but if you interfere with my way of investigation one more time or question it again, I will be absolutely thrilled to call your boss and let him or her know just what kind of tech he or she hired. Trust me, you ain't worth the piss in my cornflakes, let alone worth losing my badge."

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><p>Everyone stood in stunned silence as the rookie let the crime scene technician have it. She couldn't be more than five foot two, and it was clear she took no shit. Frankie had taken the liberty of looking at her file and was surprised at it. Isabella had graduated the academy with flying colors and had great comments about her work ethic. She was a firecracker, but she didn't let people talk down on her. If she was provoked, she would dish it right back. Cavanaugh had been strongly cautioned to not hire her, due to her Mafia ties back in New York, but she did the job right.<p>

"Hey, I got a vocal audio match in the database to someone by the name of Lyle King," Frost announced. He pinned it up onto the board for everyone to see.

"Boy, he's just an Eagle Scout, ain't he?" Isabella commented. Lyle King had been locked up for drug possession with intent to sell, possession of stolen goods, grand larceny, and liked to beat up cops. He was a very unattractive man with a beat-up, scarred face and salt and pepper hair. His nose was large and he had a mean, sailor look about him.

"As soon as we get a hit off the prints, we might be able to tie him to this," Frankie said. Isabella shook her head.

"It'll just prove that he talked to or near Henry Wallace and handled the pump hose afterwards. What we'll need to do next is place him at the scene at the time of the murder," she replied.

"That's not our job," Jane spoke up. Isabella looked over her shoulder at Jane and shook her head.

"I've been an investigator too long," she muttered. Frankie studied the board with intense eyes.

"What if Henry Wallace wasn't deaf?" he mused. He could feel the weight of the stares from everyone on him, pressing him to continue.

"Well, there was damage to his eardrums, indicating that there was damage to his ear canal," Maura informed him. Isabella reached out and pulled a sheet of paper down from the board and studied it closer.

"His hearing aid was updated recently," she commented. "His original aid was an older model, something that merely portrayed sound and bounced it off. This one has been recording sound for a while."

"His mother's waitress and his dad is a longshoreman. How the hell can you afford a six hundred dollar hearing aid for your special-needs son on that kind of salary?" Korsak asked.

"Unless the money was 'innocently' donated," Isabella said. Frankie took the paper from his partner and studied it carefully. So far, the numbers and words seemed to be in line.

"We're gonna need more if we're gonna get a subpoena for the parents' financials," he added. The two detectives looked at each other. The corners of Isabella's baby blue eyes turned up as a smile slowly curved its way onto her pretty face.

"I think someone was setting up Lyle King and used this little boy as bait," she said. "Dunno about you guys, but it's sure lookin' this way."


	4. Won't Back Down

**_A/N: Okay, now to write more...I've been looking forward to writing this chapter all day!_**

**_RaiN: She's so spunky, isn't she? I freaking love her! I like writing Isabella and Frankie together, they have such a playful chemistry..._**

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><p><em>You can sound the alarm<em>

_You can call out your dogs_

_You can fence in your yard_

_You can hold all the cards_

_But I won't back down_

_Oh no, I won't back down_

Eminem ft. Pink — Won't Back Down

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><p>Isabella walked beside Frankie and pulled the warrant out of the pocket of her black leather jacket, holding it up to the manager of the mechanics garage. She tried not to glance around the establishment. What had been lively chatter had died down and there was a shuffle to get away from the cops. A ball of unease grew in her belly as she heard television screens get turned off.<p>

"We're looking for Lyle King," she informed him, a tone of confidence in her voice. The manager, a balding man in his forties shook his head.

"He hasn't showed up for work in two days," he replied. Isabella fought the urge to stomp her foot like a petulant child, but pursed her lips.

"Where does he live?" she asked. The manager, Doug, shrugged.

"He bounces from place to place," he answered. "But he mostly hangs out with Demon."

"Where's Demon?" Frankie asked. Isabella folded her arms over her chest and glared at Doug, trying to get him to talk through pure intimidation.

"He's in the back," Doug replied, gesturing for the two detectives to follow. Isabella leaned towards Frankie to mutter quietly to him.

"This place is about as clean as a sewer," she muttered. He chuckled, keeping close to her. "I'm not just referring to the blatant violations in proper equipment care here, either."

"Yeah, this place is mobbed up," he replied. His dark brown eyes twinkled with good humor. "And I'm not just referring to their abundance in staff, either."

Her eyes rolled to the ceiling as she fought a snort.

"'Ey yo, Demon! There are some people here who wanna speak to you!" Doug called, banging on a back door.

"Who are they?" a man's voice rang out, a thick Staten Island accent. Wait a minute...

Isabella knew that voice. It was Mario Vasquez, Diego's brother. She knocked on the door.

"Open up, Vasquez, it's an old friend," she called. Silence greeted her.

"Doug, please tell me that ain't that short bitch cop from the NYPD," Mario finally said.

"The very same," Isabella replied. "We need to talk and I'm here to collect that favor you owe me."

"Pacino, you came all the way from New York to come see me? I'm touched, baby," Mario replied. The door opened, revealing the tall, buff Mexican man. His once-long hair had a buzz cut, his once clean-shaven face sporting a goatee.

"Yeah, funny how things work out like that, eh?" she said, narrowing her eyes. He had been on her side when Diego had started his obsession with her, telling his little brother to "Leave the poor woman alone, she ain't into you."

"You can't be comin' up in here like this without a warrant, honey. You know the rules," Mario informed her, narrowing his almost-black eyes. Isabella pulled the warrant from her back pocket and showed it to him.

"This'll do, right?" she asked.

* * *

><p>"Damn, I never thought I'd set foot in a burlesque again," Isabella muttered. Frankie whipped his head around to face his partner, his eyes narrowed in shock. He had to admit, she was a bit eccentric, from her taste in music to her "take no shit" attitude, but being in a burlesque seemed a little bit much, even for her. "The End Zone" was a popular nightclub, which apparently doubled as a burlesque. It had a large stage with block letters reminiscent of "Moulin Rouge", a tragic musical Theresa had made him watch on more than one occasion. The block lights were the only lights on, besides the overhead lights on the stage.<p>

"A girl's gotta get her way through college somehow," she explained airily with a shrug. He followed after her, hearing women belt out classic Motown tunes. The lights flickered through the club, illuminating the few leery men that watched the girls dance onstage.

When they came up to the office in back, Isabella reached out and knocked on the door.

"So, you knew Demon, huh?" Frankie commented, bringing up the conversation earlier. He could see her stiffen in the dim hallway before shrugging.

"Yeah, he was one of my old CI's back in New York," she replied. "I knew him a while back in high school."

She knocked again. "Boston PD, open up!" she ordered, planting her hands on her hips. She looked up at him. "Break down the door?"

He held up his hands. "Hey, it's your decision," he replied. She placed her hand on his chest, nudging him back. With a grunt of effort, her leg flung out and hit the doorjamb and sent the door flying into the office. A scantily clad blonde girl was parked on Lyle King's lap and she let out a squeal of horror.

"In our defense, we knocked," Frankie said. He pulled out his gun and stepped into the room the same time Lyle King went for his gun. "Drop it."

Slowly, Lyle obeyed. He was even uglier in person, in Frankie's opinion.

"We have some questions to ask you and it would be better all around to not ask them at gunpoint," Isabella said. She held up her cuffs and gestured Lyle to turn around. He slowly obeyed. Frankie holstered his weapon, his eyes on his partner. The minute her hands went to Lyle's wrists to secure the handcuffs, he lunged backwards and knocked her over. She caught the ottoman in the office and fell over, landing hard on the concrete floor.

Wordlessly, Frankie grabbed Lyle's shoulder and threw him onto the ground. He wrenched the older man's wrists behind his back and snapped the cuffs on.

"On your feet," he ordered. He looked over to see Isabella staggering to her feet and rubbing the back of her head. "You alright?"

She nodded, her eyes sparking with clear annoyance. "Breathe a word o' this to anyone and your ass is grass, Rozzili," she informed him. He chuckled and shook his head. She had called him "Freddie" earlier.

"It's Rizzoli," he corrected. She waved it off and shrugged, her hand going back to her head.

"Yeah, yeah," she muttered and followed him out. "I was close this time."

* * *

><p>Isabella planted her hands on her hips and slapped down a file. It was hers and Frankie's first interrogation as partners. He was a new detective, she needed to show him how to do it right.<p>

"You killed a nine year old little boy," she stated, flipping over the file. "In cold blood, all because you found out his father worked for your boss. We got a warrant for your financials and found quite a large sum of money recently."

"That wasn't me," Lyle insisted, flipping the file shut. Isabella snorted and flipped it open again.

"What'sa matter, Lyle? Can't stand to look at your own handiwork?" she sneered. Her dark hair hung off of her shoulders and she knew she looked downright intimidating.

"It wasn't me and you can't prove it was," he replied.

"Oh, but we can," Frankie spoke up. "Your prints and epithelial DNA put you on the murder weapon and an audio recording match puts you at the scene at the time of the murder."

"Why did you do it, Lyle? To protect your own ass?" Isabella asked, circling the table. When she neared his chair, Lyle snapped at her and stood up. Isabella grabbed his shoulder and shoved him roughly back into the chair.

"Sit your ass down, we ain't done here," she told him.

"I'm not saying one word without a lawyer," Lyle told her.

"You won't need a lawyer, Lyle. Trust me, the evidence against you is so overwhelming, you may as well sign the confession right now," Frankie said. She smirked at her partner, glad he was stepping up more as a detective.

"You two don't know what it's like to grow up around gangs and in one," Lyle finally said. Isabella let out a haughty laugh. Oh, she knew all too well.

"Wanna bet?" she retorted. "I grew up in Queens, buddy. The gangs there were so bad that they called it Harlem's Shadow for a while."

Her eyes were on him as she leaned closer. Her hand remained on his shoulder, her arm flexed to keep him in place.

"So, why don't you tell me who hired you to kill Henry Wallace," she suggested, her voice a smooth purr.

* * *

><p>Isabella fiddled with the edge of her jacket as everyone congratulated Frankie and herself on catching the killer. It had been their first case as a team, and she had to admit, they worked well together.<p>

"Think you can remember my name now?" Frankie joked as they walked out of the station side-by-side. She chuckled.

"I'm still convinced it's Freddie," she replied smoothly. "Just sayin'."

"So, you worked in a burlesque to put yourself through college?" he asked. With a roll of her eyes, she knew it was a piece of information that she knew she should have kept to herself.

"It's a lot classier compared to what some of the other girls did," she defended. The chilly autumn air stung her cheeks and she shivered a bit through her jacket. "And I worked as a waitress and a bartender, I wasn't a dancer."

When she approached her truck, she turned and looked over at him. "Be safe, Rozzili," she said, giving him a wink.


	5. New People

**_A/N: Friday is when CSI:NY comes back on 8D I'm so excited, I can't wait! I'm not even going to the coffeehouse, I'm just gonna get all situated, get my drinks and my snacks, sit down on the couch and not do anything anyone ever asks of me! I watched the promo the other day *big mistake* and couldn't sleep!_**

**_RaiN: Thanks, lol, I think they're pretty awesome myself! "Flacino" is always going to be the best pairing in my opinion ;D who knows? I might add Flack in there, but hey, we never know, right?_**

* * *

><p><em>Yeah, I'm not big on social graces<em>

_Think I'll slip on down to oasis_

_Oh, I've got friends in low places_

Garth Brooks — Friends in Low Places

* * *

><p>Her new co-workers were going out tonight to celebrate, but Isabella wasn't sure if she wanted to go. She knew she should take the chance to get to know everyone better, or at least attempt to remember all of their names.<p>

"Man, I need to get dressed," she muttered as she looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her dark hair was a mess, with flyaway hairs aplenty and her eyes had dark circles starting to mar underneath and she stood barefoot in her pajamas.

"What the hell," she sighed. "May as well go."

She bent down next to her dresser and pulled out drawers to find something to wear. Her style was something comfortable and casual, which mainly consisted of jeans, work shirts, a few dresses and skirts here and there, T-shirts galore, and sweaters. Deep in thought, she allowed herself to run the tip of her tongue piercing over the roof of her mouth. On her eighteenth birthday, in a fit of rebellion, she had gotten her tongue pierced as a "fuck you" to her parents.

"Aha!" she said with triumph as she pulled out her favorite pair of jeans. They were a pair of distressed skinny jeans that made her appear taller than her five foot two frame and best of all, they were comfortable. As she shimmied out of her pajama pants and into the jeans, she examined her body in the mirror and lifted the hem of her T-shirt to look at the waistband of the jeans. She frowned, jerked the T-shirt over her head, and tossed it onto the floor. Isabella shook her head and tugged an aquamarine-and-white tank top over her head, smoothing it out and wrestled on a pair of black flats. She let out a yelp as she collided with the hardwood floor and grunted. Chachi's barking filled the air as he lumbered into the room, the young Rottweiler ready to fight off any attacker from his mistress.

"Chachi, I'm fine," she said, a little breathless. "Oh, that hurt." She rolled onto her feet and fixed the heel of her shoe before looking around for her jacket. Chachi sat down, looking up at her for attention, as if he expected praise for checking on her.

"Good boy," she crooned, patting his great head. In response, the massive dog sat down at her feet, raising his head for her to shower her love on him. "You came to see if Mama was okay, didn't you?"

His stumpy tail wagged in response as he wriggled against her legs, his hind end wiggling to show his approval.

"I gotta go, but you'll watch the house, won't you?" she said. Many people thought she was insane for speaking to her dog as if he could respond, but she felt as if he could. That the bond they shared had somehow had him understand her. His long pink tongue slithered out of his mouth and he licked her face in response.

She slid her chocolate brown leather jacket on, zipping it up. Chachi followed her through the house, his nails clicking on the hardwood floors as he walked. He acted more like a goofy Labrador than a rough and tough Rottweiler, but he fit perfectly into her lifestyle. During the day, he watched the yard and went in and out of the house as he pleased.

Isabella locked the door behind her as she left and looked around outside for anyone suspicious. She tightened her ponytail and blew her bangs out of her face as she walked towards her truck. A truck hadn't been practical in the city, but the Tundra fit perfectly for her needs. She needed something that could haul like a truck with the fuel-efficiency of a car. She turned up the radio after she started the truck and backed it out of her driveway. To make up for her small height, she had bought the large truck.

* * *

><p>"Hey, newbie!" Frankie heard Korsak announce Isabella's arrival.<p>

"Hey, Korsik!" she said. Frankie had to laugh at that. If there was one thing the middle-aged detective hated, it was people messing up his name. Jane pulled up a stool for the petite detective to sit.

"Zukko," Frankie addressed her, stressing the 'oo' in her name into a short 'u'. She let out a snicker and crossed her legs on the stool. He had to admit, she looked good outside of work. If there was one thing that had always been a turn-on for him, it was women in leather jackets.

"Rozzili," she returned.

"You got some serious balls, messin' up my family name, shorty," Jane told her. She was kidding, of course, but Isabella seemed to have been taken aback slightly.

"Hey, he's the one who called me 'Zukko'," Isabella returned. Frankie snorted.

"I'm the one who's good with names," he pointed out. "You're good with faces."

"That's why we're a good team," she replied, holding out her hand. He slapped it with his own in a high-five.

"Yep. We go through a mechanics' garage, you wind up knowing one of 'em," he said. "We go to arrest someone, you trip over something."

"That was once!" she protested. "And he shoved me back, my foot caught the ottoman, and I fell!"

"Yeah, but you got Demon to keep you company," he said with a wink. "He called you, what, honey and baby in the space of one minute?"

"He also called me "short bitch cop from the NYPD"," she scoffed. "He at least knows how to charm a woman."

"Yeah, calling women short bitches is a real turn-on," Jane piped up dryly.

"Actually, women who are petite are usually seen as attractive, because it tends to bring out a protective stature in men," Maura said.

"See? Short chicks are hot," Isabella declared, popping the collar on her jacket.

* * *

><p>Now, it was for the girl-talk. The redheaded ME had brought up the subject of the "ones who got away." Isabella could have written multiple novels based on the one who had gotten away.<p>

"The one who got away for me was my ex-partner back in New York," Isabella said. She had moved from the stool to the booth with the others as she fiddled with a napkin. "I'd known him since third grade and he'd had a crush on me back then. He used to hide my lunchbox, pull my braids, and tease me. I was "Vito Corleone's old lady" back then to him and he'd brag about how his dad would let him watch 'Scarface' and all the Al Pacino movies, then pick on me 'cause of my name."

"Zuko has nothing to do with Pacino," Frankie spoke up. Isabella chuckled.

"That's because Zuko is my married name," she explained. "My maiden name is Pacino. As we got older, he would tell the other boys to back off, that he'd marry me someday. When we realized we liked each other, we had already graduated high school and I was on my way to college at NYU and I worked the day shift as a uniform and went to school at night. When I finally made detective and he and I were partnered up, we had been briefed on the 'no-frat' policy."

"Damn, I hate that rule sometimes," Jane said. Isabella had finally been briefed on everyone's names and so far, Jane's had been the easiest.

"Yeah, you're telling me," Isabella chuckled. She fidgeted with her ponytail, and looked at her lap. "I guess it's proof that you should never wait to tell someone how you feel."

"Well, then it may not have worked out," the redhead spoke up. Isabella nodded and shrugged. For the life of her, she was blanking on her name.

"He was my Justin Timberlake," she sighed. "Hot as fire, could piss me off one minute, and tie me up in sultry knots the next."

"That's a man for ya," Jane agreed.


	6. Date Night? Failed

**_A/N: Annd...I'm sick :c I have a cold...and I may have passed it onto my niece...poor Button D:_**

**_RaiN: Oh Ikr same here. Definitely watch it this year, it's supposed to be the best season yet! Last year's was pretty good, I like Jo. Not more than Stella, but Jo is pretty cool. Can anyone really get enough of Flack? ;D Every time I see him on TV, I'm just like: "God, he's so hot..." The tongue piercing wrote itself! Isabella seems a bit more bold in this and a bit more rebellious than Isabella in 'Chain Reaction.' She actually has the balls to mess up people's names! Korsak is my second favorite (Next to Sid!) and I'm glad to see that you still think Izzy and Frankie are a good team lol. I think they're pretty cool. Jane is freaking awesome! I love how rough and tough she is, it's just awesome! And yes, they were flirting ;D Good eye. It's pretty innocent right now, but who knows? Hope you enjoy this chapter!_**

**_This chapter jumps ahead to next year. C:_**

* * *

><p><em>You wanna know how to make me smile<em>

_Take control, own me just for the night_

_And if I share my secret, you're gonna have to keep it_

_'Cause nobody else can see it_

Maroon 5 ft. Christina Aguilera — Moves Like Jagger

* * *

><p>Why the hell had Isabella let her sister talk her into going out on a blind double date? Evan must have been out of her damn mind. She had moved to Boston and became a part of the FBI. She was Agent Ramiro and it was sibling rivalry all over again if the FBI stepped onto Isabella's cases.<p>

_"When was the last time you even had a date?" Evangeline asked. _Isabella rolled her eyes as she leaned onto her elbow on her desk.

"Probably a couple of years ago," she admitted. "But I haven't exactly had time to be social. I swear, if you set me up with Dante Zuko, I'm gonna slug ya."

_"Don't worry, Iz, his name is Dale," Evangeline assured her. "He started working here a couple weeks ago and doesn't know anyone yet. You two have some common interests."_

"Oh, really, like what?" Isabella asked dryly. There was a silence on the other line as her half-sister chewed over what was being asked.

_"You both like sports," Evangeline said. "He's a huge Mets fan."_

Isabella let out a groan and rested her head on the desktop. "The Mets suck balls, Evan," she complained. "Do I have to wear a dress?"

_"Yes," her sister replied. "And don't give me that shit about you don't have a dress because I bought you one."_

"Evan!" Isabella whined, then flinched when she saw people looking over in her direction.

"Fine," she growled. "When and where?"

_"Tonight after work at eight and we're picking you up," Evangeline replied proudly. _Isabella let out another groan. It was times like this that she wished murder wasn't illegal or unethical. She would bring a whole new meaning to cop-killer.

"Do you even know my dress size?" she challenged. Her sister let out a haughty laugh.

_"Yes, I do. You're a size two average in jeans until we get to the dress, where you have to go up a size because of your chest," Evangeline replied, a smirk in her voice. _She was right. Isabella had a C-cup chest and she hated it. It gave men an excuse to stare at her chest and not her face. Which, knowing Evan and her 'stellar' taste in men, was what was going to happen tonight.

"Are you coming around seven to get me ready?" Isabella asked.

_"Yep, and don't you try to get out of it," Evangeline told her. _

* * *

><p>Isabella let out a groan and slammed her head against her desk. "Someone kill me now," she pleaded.<p>

"Wouldn't that be assisted suicide?" Korsak commented. Isabella looked at him with narrowed eyes.

"You'd take pity on me," she informed him. "I have to go out on a double date with my sister and her boyfriend tonight with one of their new co-workers."

"What, can't you get a date on your own?" he asked. She fought the urge to slap her forehead and groaned again.

"Yeah, I could," she replied. "But you've met Evan. It's sibling rivalry all over again if one of us disagrees."

"Well, good luck, Zuko," he told her, patting her shoulder. She glanced at the clock on her computer and let out a shriek. Evan was going to be here any minute!

"Isabella Rae!" the shocked Queens accent of her sister rang through the air. Isabella saw Frankie walk by and she grabbed his arm.

"Kill me, please!" she begged in a whisper. He looked over his shoulder and saw the tall figure of Evangeline Ramiro. Evangeline was her half-sister, Levi was her only full brother. Ian and Teagan were the three older siblings' half-siblings as well. Isabella and Levi were half-Italian, half-Irish. Evangeline was half-Irish, half-Spanish. Ian and Teagan were full Irish.

"There you are!" Evangeline exclaimed. Her dark curls hung over her shoulders and she rested her hands on her slim hips. Her sister stood at five foot eight, with gorgeous deep brown eyes and fair skin. She wore a raspberry-colored dress that stopped above her knee, the sweetheart neckline emphasizing her bust. A bag hung over her shoulder and Isabella couldn't help but cringe.

"Yay," Isabella muttered. With a final pleading look at Frankie, she was tugged after her sister.

* * *

><p>She felt like one of the dress-up dolls Evangeline used to play with. Isabella's hair was down and brushed out. Evan had used some sort of curling contraption on her hair that didn't involve an iron or curlers. Her baby blue eyes were smoky with a tinge of stain on her lips. The dress was outrageous, of course, nothing Isabella would ever wear again. The fitted black minidress ended mid-thigh and had a deep V-neckline, calling her chest to attention.<p>

"Evan, I look like a slut," she complained. Evangeline rolled her eyes and examined her sister. After she pulled a pair of stilettos from a box from the dress bag, she handed them to her.

"This'll make you look taller," she informed her. They were almond-toe and black, with a bow on it. And a very high, skinny heel.

"I'll break my ankle if I wear these," Isabella complained again. Her sister patted her face with a soft slap.

"Snap out of it!" Evangeline implored. Isabella groaned and tossed her head back.

"Fine, gimme the damn shoes," she muttered, sliding them onto her feet. Whoa, was this what being tall felt like? She liked it.

"Let's go!" Evangeline said, hooking her arm into her sister's and walked out of the bathroom.

* * *

><p>Words of 'whoa' and whistles filled the air and Frankie rose his head in time to see Isabella walk across the bullpen with her sister. His eyes glued to the dress and his jaw nearly hung from his face. He had no idea that his partner could look like that outside of work.<p>

"Kill me," she whispered over her shoulder. It brought all sorts of thoughts in his mind. The dress ended mid-thigh, it had a deep 'V'-neck, it hugged every contour of her body. The sky-high heels gave it a "fuck-me" vibe and he allowed his eyes to settle on her legs for a split-second. Bad idea.

"Wow, she looks good in a dress," Jane commented. She slapped his arm, causing him to jolt from his reverie. "You're staring."

"Sorry, it's just-" he trailed off. "She looks good."

"No-frat policy," Jane singsonged as she sashayed her way to the ME's office. He had teased her about it when a uniform had flirted with her. Now, she was doing it to him. It had been a year since he had become partners with Isabella, and he had come to enjoy her company, both and off the clock.

"Tell ya what, Blue Eyes," he said to Isabella after Evangeline had left her for a minute to bring the car around. Isabella looked up at him from her eyelashes and rested her hands on her slim hips. It was funny that it was only he who could get away with calling her that.

"I'll call in like...forty-five minutes and say there's a case. If it's going badly, tell me you're on your way. If it's going well, just say it's your night off."

Her eyes widened. "That's brilliant," she said. When the car honked, she turned her head.

"Thanks, Frankie."

* * *

><p>Isabella glared at her sister as she waved with the tips of her fingers. She had decided to "let these two kids get to know each other better."<p>

"So, what do you do for a living?" Dale asked. He was a good-looking man, Isabella supposed. He had boyish good looks, with auburn hair and golden eyes, he knew how to wear a power suit. Her main issue was that he was so damn boring!

"Boston Police Department," Isabella replied. "I'm a Homicide detective."

Dale pursed his lips and his golden eyes darkened. "Oh, I see," he replied. It was clear he wasn't about to badmouth the Boston PD. Whether it was rude or not, Isabella would let him have it. And then she would trash-talk the feds. They always seemed to step over the line and make the police look like scared little pussies, when nine times out of ten, it was the police that kept everything in line.

"What department do you work in the FBI?" Isabella asked, groping for conversational straws. She knew damn well what department he worked, because he worked with Evangeline.

"I investigate serial killers," he replied. "Basically, when a killer crosses state lines, it becomes our business."

A clear warning that he wouldn't hesitate to plow her down to get their man. Things were sluggish as they made awkward small-talk. When his phone rang, things had lifted up for him from there. For the next fifteen minutes, he chatted animatedly on the other line with someone and Isabella sighed, trying not to show her irritation.

The highlight of her evening was when they went for a walk and she talked to the pretzel vendor while Dale talked to whoever he was on the phone with. Dale had taken to trashing the police department, calling them 'uncivilized children.' It was times like this where she wished she could slug him.

"He's an idiot if he's gonna ignore a pretty girl like you to talk on the phone," the vendor, an elderly man informed her. She smiled at him. "Whoo, with a really pretty smile!"

"Thanks," she replied. He had a thick New York accent himself.

"Which part of New York are you from?" he asked. Isabella felt a rise of annoyance as Dale snapped his fingers at her. Fuck him, she was going to talk to someone who at least paid attention to her!

"I'm from Queens," she answered with a smile. "Former NYPD."

"And you're out with this schmuck?" the vendor asked in surprise. Isabella shrugged.

"My sister set me up with him," she explained. "He's an FBI agent."

"Ah, I always hated those back when I was a beat cop," he said with a wave of his hand. Her interest was piqued.

"Really?" she asked. "Were you NYPD?"

He nodded. "Yes, ma'am," he replied. "You're looking at a former Detective Sergeant right here. Detective Sergeant Charlie Malloy."

"I'm Detective Isabella Pacino Zuko," she said, extending a hand. "Boston Homicide."

"Ah, the Pacino family," Charlie said, shaking his head and shook her hand. "They always gave me a lick of trouble early on."

"That sounds like them," she commented with a smile. When Dale finally hung up the phone, he looked irritated. "Oops, I guess I gotta run, Charlie."

"It was nice to meet you, Detective," Charlie said, giving her a wink and a salute. "Keep the streets of Boston safe."

"Yessir," she replied, doing the same.

* * *

><p>"You sure you don't want to take this back to my place? I make killer French toast," Dale winked at her. Isabella tried not to show her horror as they pulled up to the precinct, where she had requested that he dropped her off.<p>

"I'm sure you do," she declined politely. "But I have to work." Luckily, Frankie had given her the call and she was happy to return to work.

"C'mon, I could pull a few strings and get you tonight and tomorrow off," he goaded with a wink. She shook her head.

"No," she replied. "I'm sorry, but I don't think we should do this again."

"You cops are all the same!" Dale snarled. "I expected this from someone at the FBI, but definitely not someone of _such an elite _force."

"That's why I'm saying no!" Isabella snapped. "All you did was bash the Boston PD, ignore me, had the nerve to snap your fingers at me like a disobedient Golden Retriever, and now you think I want to go home with you. No thanks, I'll go back to work."

When he had kicked her out of his SUV about two blocks away from the precinct, she walked. This was a disastrous date, but she didn't care. She yanked open the door to the precinct and kicked off her heels to go through the checkpoint.

"Go ahead, Detective Zuko," Oscar said. He was the uniformed guard that took care of everything. She nodded to him and breezed through the gate, heels in hand. When she wrenched open the door to the bullpen, every eye was on her.

Immediately, she searched for Frankie. When she spotted him talking to Maura, she slid her heels back on and walked over to them.

"Thank you for bailing me out of that date," she told him. Maura appraised her dress before nodding her approval.

"Yes, I heard about your night out. Was the restaurant nice?" she asked. Isabella nodded.

"Yeah, the restaurant and the pretzel vendors were the highlight of the evening," she replied. Planting her hands onto her hips, she continued. "Get this: he spent the entire night on the phone, yakking about how uncivilized we are and how much of a complication we are. When we walked through the park, he stopped to talk on the phone and I talked to the pretzel vendor. Trust me, I wish I had been on the date with him."

"What was his name?" Maura asked. She looked interested as the petite detective continued.

"Agent Dale Osbourne. He works with Evan," Isabella replied. "God, he actually had the nerve to invite me back to his place. Said he made 'killer French toast'. I wanted to slug him."

"You should have," Frankie said, clearly surprised at how brazen and immature her date was.

"I would have, but he settled for kicking me out of his car and having me walk," Isabella replied, still irritated. "I'd rather stick pins in my eyes and listen to soft jazz than see him again."

"He made you walk?" Frankie repeated, his eyes wide. It was clear he was pissed off at this.

"Yep, he made me walk two blocks in high heels," she replied. "Evan's gonna get her head bitten off, believe me."


	7. Witness Accounts and Shootings

**_A/N: 8D Time to write another chapter...to post before I sleep tonight!_**

**_RaiN: Indeed it does, lol. I thought I set down a good foundation for friendship. And lol! That's a gift, eye for flirting ;D I'm glad you really love this story, it warms my heart that people read my stuff! Izzy is definitely a lot like Jane, they both have that rough-and-tough "don't fuck with me" approach. Everyone loves Sid in his "creepy place", it's so funny! It makes you wonder how he knows all of this...Frankie is a man, he's bound to notice when women walk by in sexy dresses. I love family moments between Frankie and Jane, they're so funny together! As far as family ships go, I definitely ship Jane and Frankie. I thought Isabella should have her nickname "Blue Eyes" because Don and Danny have blue eyes on CSI:NY, so it would be awkward if they called her that. She's definitely "Shorty" to them! I should definitely bring Don into the story... I actually thought about having Isabella throw her heel at Dale's car, but I decided against it lol. Thanks for yet another heartwarming review!_**

* * *

><p><em>Got this ghost town, this Motown<em>

_With your sound, you in the blink_

_Gonna bite the dust, can't fight with us_

_With your sound you kill the Inc._

_So don't stop, get it, get it_

Gorillaz — Feel Good Inc.

* * *

><p>Isabella sank onto her couch at three in the morning, hardly awake enough to have had changed into sweatpants and a T-shirt. Hunger grumbled in her stomach as she rested her arm over her eyes. The sound of arguments caused her to groan as she fought the urge to yell at them to shut up. Chachi growled low in his throat at the door, his lips pulled back over his teeth. The fine, short hair on his back and neck stood up straight. As the yelling continued, the volume of the growling increased. Isabella sat up straight and pulled out her gun and badge from the drawer to go check it out. She clipped the badge to her waistband and a leash onto Chachi, because he kept her from going outside. He padded alongside her and Isabella saw a figure standing in a driveway a few houses down, under a streetlight. Chachi continued to growl and he strained against the leash.<p>

"Is there a problem?" Isabella called. She snapped her fingers, pointing to the ground. The young Rottweiler immediately sat down, his hackles still raised. The figure turned to look at her and a car ripped down the street, slowing as it approached the house. Isabella silently flicked the safety off of her gun, her eyes settling on the car. She had witnessed many drug deals in her lifetime, both as a cop and as a civilian. When gunshots rang out in the air, Chachi lunged forward, barking with all of his might.

"Shit!" Isabella hissed, wishing she had grabbed her cellphone. She ran barefoot towards the fallen victim, trying to get a look at the license plate. Instead, she settled for firing off her weapon. Bullets zinged onto the back of the car, breaking the windshield. Quickly, she aimed for the tires. Anything to get the car to stop. She bent down next to the victim, testing his pulse. Faint pulse.

Isabella emptied her clip before the car turned down the road. It had been a black luxury car, no license plates. Nearly impossible to track without plates. She let out a curse and looked around. She bent down next to the victim, hearing the wail of sirens in the distance. Quickly, she pumped on his chest, trying to get him to resuscitate.

"Someone call an ambulance!" she yelled, trying to open his mouth. When cars screeched up to the driveway, she recognized Officer Ryan.

"Ryan!" she said, her voice mingling with relief.

"Is he alive?" Jennifer Ryan asked, bending down next to the victim. Isabella nodded.

"Barely," she replied. "I've been administering CPR for a minute."

"Did you see who did this?" Jennifer asked, taking over the CPR. Isabella shook her head.

"Just the car," she replied. "Black luxury car, either a Beemer, possibly a Lexus or a Jaguar. I shot it up and shattered the back windshield. There's rear damage."

"That's enough to put out an APB on the car," Jennifer said. An ambulance pulled up and paramedics jumped out. "He's barely alive."

"I heard yelling outside," Isabella said, wiping her forehead with the back of her wrist. Blood soaked her skin. "He must've been on the phone."

The victim was a young man in his twenties with dirty blonde hair. Nodding to her dog, she continued. "Chachi here wouldn't stop growling, so I grabbed my gun and badge and went outside. I saw the vic in the driveway and saw the car whip down the street. When the gunshots went off, I ran for the car and shot at it."

Jennifer nodded and wrote it all down in her memo book. "Well, I couldn't ask for a better eyewitness," she said. She was a pretty woman, with smiling gray eyes and red hair.

"He's dead," the paramedic announced. Isabella bowed her head in sorrow.

"We have a homicide."

* * *

><p>Frankie pulled his car up to the house and saw Isabella standing in the driveway with a dog parked at her feet.<p>

"Boy, you just bring your work home with you, don't you?" he joked as he got out. She snorted.

"Yeah, I do," she responded. "But this time, I'm here as a witness."

"What did you do?" he asked, pulling out his memo pad and licking the tip of his pen. She rolled her eyes and held out her hands as a tech swabbed them. Eliminating prints and DNA, apparently.

"I witnessed the shooting," she replied, nodding down to the dead man. "Victim's name is Charles Bentley. He's twenty-three years old and is unemployed."

"Yet, he lives here?" Frankie asked, nodding to the nice house. Isabella shrugged.

"I ain't seen him around here before," she replied. "The people who own this house are hardly ever home. When they are home, they blare music and carouse till the morning light."

He saw goosebumps broken out on her arms and the Rottweiler pressed itself against her legs, eyeing him warily.

"This is Chachi?" he asked, nodding to the dog. She nodded as she was handed a water bottle to clean her hands. After dumping water onto her hands, she wiped them onto her sweatpants. Her badge was clipped to her waistband, hanging to one side.

"Yep, this is Chachi," she confirmed, patting the dog's head. The massive dog rolled his head back, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. "He's my baby."

"Anyways, did an officer take your statement?" he asked. She nodded.

"Yeah, Ryan did," she answered. "Basically, I heard yelling outside and grabbed my gun and badge to go investigate. I see a car whip down the street and slow down in front of the house, where Charles Bentley was gunned down. I ran over and shot the car, there's significant damage to the rear end and no back windshield. I think I tagged a taillight. After the car drove off, I focused my attention on the victim and did CPR until the uniforms showed up."

"What kinda car?" he asked, writing down the rest of her statement.

"Black luxury, foreign model. No plates," she responded.

"Well, so far, a few of your neighbors have a witness account saying Isabella is the shooter and proceeded to complain about her dog," Jane said as she walked up.

"My neighbors hate me," Isabella muttered. "Honestly, Mrs. Hart needs to mind her own damn business. Chachi hasn't tried to eat her little rat yet, but if the little demon keeps barking, I'm gonna drop-kick it into next month."

"A neighbor said he stood out on his porch and saw the entire thing, which corroborates with Isabella's story," Jane replied.

"Which means, because there aren't enough accounts, IAB is gonna launch an investigation," Isabella surmised. "Because, you know, that's exactly what I need in my life."

"If we find the car, then you'll be cleared. But yeah, IA will still do an investigation," Jane told her. Isabella groaned.

"That's the last thing I need," she sighed. "I-A-B on my A-S-S."

"Don't worry, we know you're not the type to shoot up your neighborhood," Frankie assured her. She smiled and patted his shoulder. "Did you just wipe blood on me?"

"A little bit, yeah."


	8. For the Love of IAB

**_A/N: Time to write again! 8DD Tomorrow and Saturday will not have morning updates, but could possibly come up again later on. I babysit early in the morning to night, so I don't have time to log on and write until I get my laptop fixed, then I can write while the kiddies are sleeping!_**

**_RaiN: Glad! I had updated Chain Reaction twice yesterday, so I had update this one more time before I went to bed. Lol my dad introduced me to Rizzoli & Isles a few months after it premiered and I was all: "O: This is kinda cool, but I have no idea wtf is going on" but after watching it a few more times, I fell in love with it xD Izzy is definitely a workaholic with the worst stroke of luck ever. Frankie's very patient with people and I really wanted to show that off! As for the shoe, wait till Izzy sees Dale again ;D that's definitely gonna be something worth seeing! And the blood...it sort of came to me at the end, I just stared at my computer screen like: "How the hell do I end this?" and then, the blood thing came to me, so I had to. Friends make people better lovers! ;D I really am glad you like this lol. _**

* * *

><p><em>Ooh, we gotta hold on<em>

_Ready or not_

_You live for the fight_

_When that's all that you've got_

Bon Jovi — Livin' On A Prayer

* * *

><p>Isabella stood at Cavanaugh's desk, her piece and badge in hand.<p>

"You understand we have to put you on administrative duty until we find the car," her captain told her. She nodded slowly, feeling every bit like a kicked dog. How could they not know that she wouldn't shoot someone in cold blood? But, just her luck, Charles Bentley had been shot with a 9mm. Which matched the caliber of her service weapon.

"Just find the car, eh?" she said. "I'm not made for a desk, Cap." She laid down her badge and pulled out the clip and round before setting it onto his desk. Humiliation sat in her stomach like a sour stone and she tried not to show how hurt she was. She was a Pacino by blood. They were tougher-skinned than this. If the DA caught word that her father's side of the family was mobbed up, she was in big trouble. She would be labeled a flight risk and transferred back to New York.

When Isabella walked back to her desk, she shook her head and rested her head on its smooth surface. Predictable hours, nothing to do but getting caught up on paperwork...

It made her sick.

The field gave her a challenge, it gave her something to be proud of. She lived for the fight, when a suspect decided he or she wasn't going anywhere with the police. She loved to goad people into confessing into a crime. And yes, she loved being able to defend the city where she worked. Boston was an okay city in her book. It was where she was needed, so she poured her heart into the work she did.

"Cavanaugh took your badge and piece?" Korsak asked. Isabella looked up and nodded bitterly, running a hand through her dark hair in annoyance.

"This is bullshit and he knows it," she replied. "What possible motive would I have to shoot Charles Bentley?"

"IAB is putting a show on for the mayor," he assured her, patting her shoulder. "When they ask me to give my statement on what kind of cop you are, they'll see the light."

"I'm well-liked around here," she pointed out. "They're going to see it as bias. God, if I could find that car, I could prove all my rounds are in the trunk and window of it."

"They're running a comparison with your weapon against the bullets Maura found in the victim," he said. "They won't match."

"You know what really chaps my ass about this whole thing?" she asked bitterly. "Is that I've done every single case by the book and that doesn't count for shit."

The sound of Detective O'Brien's voice cut through the air.

"Detective Zuko, come in here, please."

Isabella stood up and hugged Vince for a moment. "Thanks, Vince," she said.

"Hey, no problem," he replied. She walked into the head of IAB's office and stood in the doorway.

"Have a seat," Donovan O'Brien said, gesturing to a chair. Isabella sat down and stared him down. "Now, we've heard the neighbors' side of the story."

"In my defense, Mrs. Hart hates my dog and isn't exactly my biggest fan. Most likely, when the neighbors looked outside, they saw me with a gun in my hand and shooting at a car," she explained.

"What caused you to go outside with your dog?" Donovan asked. He was a middle-aged man, balding, and had glasses perched on his nose as he stared at her with intense brown eyes.

"I heard yelling outside, Charles Bentley was probably on the phone. Chachi was growling at the door and wouldn't let me leave, so I took him with me and stood in my yard. I could see him about three houses down and I called out to see if everything was alright. I heard the car go down the street and slow down near the house. Gunshots rang out, so I flicked the safety off my gun and shot at the car," she replied.

"What do you remember about the car?" Donovan asked, writing it down. Isabella shook her head, propping it in her hand, her elbow resting on her knee.

"It was a black mid-size car, looked luxurious, so it was probably a Jaguar, a Beemer, or a Lexus," she replied. "No license plates."

"Did your bullets hit anything on the car?" he asked. She knew he knew this already, he was checking for consistency in her story. Isabella nodded.

"Yes. It hit the rear end of the car, broke a taillight and shattered the back windshield," she replied.

"Alright, what was it about the yelling that caused you to leave your house?" Donovan asked. Isabella sighed and rubbed the waterline of her eyes.

"This is gonna sound crazy, but my dog was the one that made the decision for me," she replied. "I rescued Chachi when he was a puppy, during a raid. He was chained to a doghouse and I took him in and nursed him back to health. After that, I knew how he growled."

"And how was his growl?" he asked, clearly uninterested.

"He was showing his teeth, his hair was up, and he looked like he was about to attack the door," she replied. The door opened and a petite blonde stood in the doorway.

"Detective O'Brien, the techs got a hit off of the bullet in Charles Bentley," she reported. Her voice was high and nasally, instantly grating on Isabella's nerves.

"Thank you, Grace," he replied.

"It's from a series of unsolved murders in New York City," she said. "I have a member of the NYPD on the phone, he wishes to speak with you."

Isabella's ears pricked at the news. It was entirely possible she had worked those cases.

"Alright," Donovan replied, picking up his phone. "Ah, Detective Flack."

Isabella's eyes widened as the name was spoken.

"Yes, we're currently running an investigation right now. One of our officers were involved and we're making sure she didn't pull the trigger," Donovan continued. His eyes were on hers, carefully gauging her reactions.

"Does the name Isabella Zuko ring any bells?" he asked. Of course, it would. She and Don had gone back since third grade! They had been partners since she had been transferred from CSI to Homicide.

"Well, witness accounts are telling a different story." If anyone could give a statement based on her work, Detective Donald Flack Jr was the man. She felt giddiness rising inside of her and fought the urge to wiggle in her seat.

"I'll talk to the Chief and we'll get the ball rolling." With that, he said his goodbye and hung up.

"If there's anyone who could contest to the fact I shot someone, it's Don Flack," Isabella finally said.

"How long have you two known each other?" he asked. Isabella shrugged. God, it was close to twenty-one years...

"Since third grade," she replied. "He was my partner after I had been transferred from CSI to Homicide."

"Would you be able to work with him if he were to come to Boston to finish off the case?" Donovan asked. Isabella felt a grin spread across her face.

"Yes, sir," she replied.

* * *

><p>It felt as if her entire body were on vibrate as she bounced her knee in anticipation. To say she was excited was putting it mildly.<p>

"You look like the cat that got the canary," Jane commented. Isabella's smile broadened to a grin.

"That's because I just got the best news," she replied. "IAB's closing the investigation on me."

"Did IBUS get a hit on those bullets?" Jane asked. Isabella nodded.

"Yep. A series of unsolved murders in New York City. When I saw the report, I remember I had worked the case. O'Brien just got off the phone with someone from the NYPD and he's sending my old partner to come work with us to close the case permanently," she replied excitedly.

"That's great news!" Jane said. "Maybe now we'll see why he's so great." A mischievous twinkle shone in her brown eyes as she winked.

"Things are looking up," Isabella replied. "Now I'm just counting down the hours till he gets here, 'cause that's when I get my badge and piece back."


	9. Territory Issues

**_A/N: This chapter contains a crossover with CSI: NY. If you do not know what CSI: NY is, shame on you! Anyways, I don't own Don Flack, but I do own the storyline..._**

**_RaiN: I want season 1 so badly and I absolutely cannot wait till it comes back on! The first episode of R&I that I saw was "I'm Your Boogeyman," I think. Yeah, it's pretty relaxing for me to write before I go to bed, lol. It's part of my nightly routine! Isabella is definitely an outdoors cat, not an indoors! Don and Jane may have some flirtatious banter, but I don't think it'll go much farther than that, lol. Maura's gonna be all: "O: SHOULDER TO HIP RATIO, THAT'S ONE BIG BOY!" Don is very territorial, so I think because Isabella was once his partner (And he's got a thing for her *cough cough*), he's gonna give Frankie a little taste of the NYPD. But I think Frankie'll hold his own ;D_**

* * *

><p><em>Workin' hard to get my fill<em>

_Everybody wants a thrill_

_Payin' anything to roll the dice_

_Just one more time_

_Some will win, some will lose_

_Some were born to sing the blues_

_Oh, the movie never ends_

_It goes on and on and on and on_

Journey — Don't Stop Believin'

* * *

><p>It had been three days since she had been chained to a desk, and Isabella was about to go stir crazy. She crossed her legs as she bounced her foot to the beat of Lonely Island's "Jack Sparrow" on her iPod.<p>

"Yeah, that was kinda weird, but we back in the club, buyin' up the bar so the groupies show us love. Motherfucking ice-man, I'm the top gunner. Heater on blast, I'm the number one stunner," she muttered along with it.

"Did you ever see such a lazy detective?" an achingly familiar voice said, his voice low. She looked up and met the amused electric blue eyes of Don Flack. His dark hair was cropped short, the ends hanging in his eyes. Isabella stood up and threw her arms around his neck, letting out a squeal. He wrapped his arms around her waist and spun her around.

"Donnie!" she greeted him. He was an entire foot taller than she, but he had never let it stop him from hugging her. "I would've been out in the field, but they took my gun and piece and gave me paperwork."

"Aw man, shorty, you know better than to piss off your boss when you're the new girl," he teased, poking her in the side. God, a year had passed by since she had seen him, but he was still as sexy as ever and definitely knew how to get a woman's heart going.

"Yeah, I know, I leave that to you!" she replied, elbowing him playfully. Her massive grin was starting to cramp her cheeks, but she was ecstatic to see him.

"God, it was like pulling teeth to get that guy to let me in here," he commented, raking a hand through his dark hair. Isabella hooked her arm in his and led him towards Cavanaugh's office to get her weapon back. She nearly collided with Maura.

"Oh, Isabella, Cavanaugh said he was going out for lunch, but he'd be back in about thirty minutes," Maura said with a smile. The pretty redhead's eyes met Don's and it was clear she approved. "Oh, who's this?"

"Maura, this is Detective Don Flack, my old partner back in New York," Isabella replied proudly. "Donnie, this is Dr. Maura Isles, Chief Medical Examiner." The two shook hands.

"Maura, c'mon, I'm starving!" Jane complained. When her eyes landed on Flack, they widened. "Is this..."

"I take it I've been talked about," Don said with a smirk, ducking his head. Isabella felt her face warm and she rubbed the back of her neck nervously.

"Donnie, this is Detective Jane Rizzoli. Jane, this is Detective Don Flack. And it's only 'cause I was going stir crazy at my desk!" she said. "You of all people know what happens when you're chained to a desk." Her eyes sparkled devilishly as he nudged her.

"Hey, I finally beat your record at crossword puzzles!" he pointed out. Isabella smirked as she looked up at him.

"C'mon, we may as well grab lunch while waiting for my boss to come back. I'll introduce you to everyone else after we get food," she told him. He kissed the top of her head and she felt her blush deepen.

"It's that half-Italian blood rearing its ugly head when you're denied food, right, Pacino?" he teased. He never referred to her as her married name, not even when she had been married to Dante. She was always 'Pacino.'

"Yeah, yeah, you know I am," she replied, hooking her arm through his and tugging him towards the cafe. She pointed through a set of doors. "Right through there." He grinned over his shoulder and waved.

"Good Lord, you said he was hot, but damn!" Jane said in a low voice. Isabella planted her hands on her hips, still feeling the heat of her blush and smiled proudly.

"See? I have good taste in men," she replied. "What was it you said about shoulder to hip ratio, Dr. Isles?" She winked playfully at Maura before striding after Don.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Mrs. R," Isabella greeted Angela as she walked into the cafe. The older woman waved at her before turning her attention to the kitchen.<p>

"Here ya go, shorty," Don said, holding up a Styrofoam coffee cup to her. "Black, three Sugars in the Raw, and a squirt of hazelnut creamer."

She smiled and pressed the cup to her lips to take a sip. "You remembered," she approved. He raised his eyebrow.

"Gimme a little credit," he said. "I've known you since third grade, knowing how you take your coffee is practically first nature."

"Ah, but we've only been friends since eighth grade," she reminded him. "If you remember, I kicked your ass at kickball in third grade and you hated me."

"Only 'cause I thought you were cute and spent the rest of my time annoying the hell outta you," he replied, winking at her. She rolled her eyes and pulled up a chair at one of the tables, hopping up onto the high seat.

"How's New York?" she asked, taking another sip of her coffee. The hot liquid slithered down her throat and she set the cup onto the table. Don shrugged, scratching his head.

"It's doin' pretty well," he answered. "Considering..."

He was referring to the death of his mother, Kyra Flack. Isabella bowed her head in respect.

"How's your family coping?" she asked. "That had to have been a tough blow, I wish I could have been there for you."

He waved it off, his electric blue eyes darkened a shade with sadness. "We understood why you couldn't," he assured her. "Boston's your home now."

"Still...you and your family have been so close to my family for how long?" she asked. "Cavanaugh wouldn't let me have time off, it was too soon since I'd started working here."

"Sounds like he lives to jump up your ass," he commented. She pursed her lips and her gaze dropped to the intricate design on the blown-glass tables. The cafe basically had patio furniture, but it served its purpose.

"Well, he's a good boss and he's fair," she offered. "He just has very little tolerance for things." _Like officers shooting up cars._ It hadn't been her fault, but she still had to take the blame.

"I really do miss you, Isabella," Don admitted. He tilted her chin up to meet his gaze. "A lot."

She felt a smile curve across her features as she propped her head onto her elbow.

"I miss you, too," she replied. "A lot."

"I mean, I also feel sorry for you. You're a Yankee stuck in a place with a bunch of Red Sox." She stuck her tongue out at him and shoved his shoulder playfully.

"Ass," she teased. "How did I know that sports was gonna come up, eh?"

"It's always about the sports, shorty," he reminded her. The sound of her phone beeping caught her attention and she pressed the 'read' button to read the message. It was from Frankie.

"Oh, this is from my partner," she said, pulling up the message. _Cavanaugh's back, wants to see you. Hurry, hes got a bad mood! _

_Damn. _

"Come on, we'll find food later," she told him. "Right now, I gotta get my badge and gun back."

* * *

><p>Frankie set his phone down and saw the petite form of his partner come through the door, a tall man behind her. His dark hair was cropped over his head, the ends in his face. This must be her old partner.<p>

"Hey, where is he?" she asked. As the man stood behind her, he nodded to him.

"Office," Frankie replied. A smile lit up her face as she walked into Cavanaugh's office. Frankie held out a hand. "Detective Frankie Rizzoli."

"Detective Don Flack, NYPD," the man addressed himself, shaking his hand. "Zuko's former partner."

"Nice to meet ya," Frankie told him. "I'm Zuko's current partner."

Don seemed to have a knowing look on his face. Isabella talked about him to him. When Isabella appeared from Cavanaugh's office, she had her holster attached to her belt, her service weapon sitting proudly in its place. Her badge was clipped to her belt and her baby blue eyes were bright.

"Finally, I have my shit together," she announced, fixing her blazer over her belt. He had learned it from her, after she had explained it gives them an advantage with suspects. It made them less likely to run when they saw her badge and gun. When her eyes fell on the two men, they flickered from Frankie to Don.

"I see you two have met," she commented. Don walked over to her and slung his arm over her shoulder, as if they were old friends.

_They are_, Frankie had to remind himself. _They go all the way back to grade school._ Her smile spread across her face, mirroring Don's.

"Oh yeah, me and your new partner here and I were just discussing how much we have in common," Don replied. "Like how at one point in time, we were both your partner."

A clear territory mark. Frankie felt a smirk on his face as he prepared to launch a snarky remark right back at the smooth-talking detective.

"Yeah, but the difference is I still am," he said. The shock that crossed Don's face definitely made his day. Isabella snorted.

"C'mon, boys, we gotta job to do," she told them.


	10. Demonstrations

**_A/N: Aha, Frankie and Don are gonna have some clear issues!_**

**_RaiN: Yeah, night-writing is one of my favorite things...it's very relaxing to me. Lol, so glad the chapter title got your attention! And Ikr, Don's practically the sex of CSI. I love it when Maura goes psychoanalyst, it's so funny! Her assessment of Giovanni was classic! Like I said before, 'Flacino' is definitely my best pairing of all time. Next comes 'Messino', then 'Rizzuko'._**

**_Ellie: Nice to meet you and I'm glad to like it!_**

* * *

><p><em>Dirty babe, you see these shackles?<em>

_Baby, I'm your slave_

_I'll let you whip me if I misbehave_

_It's just that no one makes me feel this way_

Justin Timberlake ft. Timbaland — SexyBack

* * *

><p>Isabella raised her eyebrows as she looked around the house where Charles Bentley actually lived. Holes and dents were in the walls everywhere. Holding up a flashlight, she moved a table, where a 'bedroom scar' was strategically shrouded.<p>

"So, he bothers to hide one bedroom scar and not the rest?" she commented. Frankie looked over at her in confusion. "A bedroom scar is when you do it up against something and it bangs against the wall."

"It?" he asked, clearly clueless. She felt her face flush slightly as she looked away.

"It, as in sex," she explained, shining her flashlight along the floor of the room. "This stuff has been moved around lots of times."

"Indicating, he's a sex fiend," Jane said, as if it were obvious. Isabella chuckled.

"God, there's probably biologicals out the wazoo in here," she commented. "His bedroom must be a mess."

"Hey, the table's busted in here," Don called from the dining room. Isabella's eyes widened and she followed the sound of his voice into the dining room, where a table was precariously perched. Upon closer inspection, she saw that the table had been indeed busted, but was put back together.

"The man's a freak!" she commented. He chuckled.

"He gets more action than I do," he said. She shoved his shoulder.

"We're investigating a murder here, Flack, now's not the time to boast your sexual prowess," she informed him. "Besides, we all know that I get the most action."

"Ha!" Don snorted. "One thing that never changes about you, shorty, is your sense of humor."

She stuck her tongue out at him, showing off the tongue piercing. He winked at her before standing up.

"Can someone hand me a UV light?" she asked, poking her head out into the living room, where the CSRU had their little work station. The lippy tech, Zachary, handed her a UV light with a sneer. Isabella had had issues with him on her first case, but now she seemed to have broken him in. Renata, one of the other techs handed her a pair of orange goggles. Isabella smiled in thanks.

"Thanks, Ren," she told her, slipping it onto her face and turning on the UV light. Evidence of semen and biological fluid showed up all over the tabletop and she grimaced.

"Good Lord, this guy just doesn't know how to stop," she commented. After running the light along the walls, she stepped into the kitchen, where evidence of fingerprints laid against the table.

"Is that an ass-cheek impression?" she asked. Sure enough, on the table, was a perfect impression of someone sitting on the table. There were palm-prints by it. Isabella took off the goggles and laid them around her neck. The print was repeated, like someone had hopped onto the table numerous times.

"So, we know the guy gets around," Jane replied.

"No, this kind of impression is unique," Isabella replied. "It's not from leaning against it." She leaned against an unaffected part of the table.

"It's from sitting on it." She checked the table's stability before hopping onto it. The table's height caused her feet to rise from the floor and dangled.

"So, we're looking for someone who visits here a lot," Jane surmised. Isabella nodded, fighting the urge to swing her legs like a child.

"You know what's weird?" she mused. "It's actually fun being short. You get to swing your legs when your feet don't touch the ground."

She hopped down from the table and heard an excited 'aha!' come from the bedroom. Isabella walked down the hall to the bedroom, following the sound of someone's voice.

Frankie held up posters, programs, and fliers.

"This guy was into some kinky stuff," he commented. Isabella looked over her shoulder and raised her eyebrow.

"Yeah, you're telling me," she replied. "This guy did it up against every inch of this place." She slid the goggles back onto her face and flicked on the UV light. Once again, biological fluid was everywhere. Especially on the sheets.

"Oh, look, more bedroom scars," Frankie joked, pulling furniture out.

"Looks like Charlie Boy's favorite places for sex is on his dresser," she said, pointing at the furniture. "And on the bed."

Bare cheek impressions on the dresser, along with two sets of palm prints.

"Help me up," she requested, pulling off the goggles. "See if I got this right." Frankie's hands came to rest on her waist and he gently lifted her up with minimal effort onto the dresser. His hands rested on either side of her and she gripped the edge of the dresser as he stepped closer to her.

"So the prints are consistent with this," she said, feeling a shiver at his being so intimately close to her. He chuckled, his doe-brown eyes dark with mischief. His breath tickled her neck, causing her to shiver a bit. Goosebumps broke out on her skin and her breath caught in her throat.

"We found more biologicals in other-" Don was saying as he walked in. "Whoa, am I interrupting something?" Both detectives' heads turned to the doorway and Frankie stepped back, scratching his neck.

"Nah, man, you're good," he replied. Isabella hopped down from the dresser. It was as if she were some hormonal teenager by the way her body reacted with him stepping so close to her. She forced a smile at her former partner.

"How many other rooms did you find more evidence of, ahem, the victim's seemingly favorable activities?" she asked, meeting Don's blue eyes with her own.

"All the others, except laundry room. Which is kind of ironic," he replied, looking over his shoulder. When Frost called for Frankie, his head dipped down to her level. "What the hell did I walk into just now?"

She shook her head. "It was nothing," she assured him with a smile. "He wanted to know what the prints were consistent with, so he helped me onto the dresser for me to show him."

"Just be mindful of that no-frat policy, shorty," he said, his tone slightly bitter. Isabella felt like a reprimanded puppy at his words.

"Don't worry, Flack," she said. "There's nothing going on between me and Frankie."

* * *

><p>The name of the owner of the biological fluid belonged to a dominatrix at a strip club by the name of 'Venom.' The name of the club was 'Pounce', a very apt name for a club with such a theme.<p>

"Wow, it looks like a hotel," Isabella commented as she and Frankie wandered through the doors of the club. When they approached a desk, a perky young redhead's eyes roved over the detectives.

"Is there anything I can help you with?" she asked, her eyes on Frankie. Isabella cleared her throat, holding up her badge. She tried to stifle her annoyance in her voice as she snapped her fingers to get the receptionist's attention.

"Whoa, officers, what we do here is legal," she protested. "No prostitution happens here. Money exchanges hands and men get sexual bondage, not sexual intercourse."

"We're not Vice," Frankie spoke up. "We're Homicide."

Instantly, the redhead looked sorry. "Oh my, was one of the girls murdered?" she gasped.

Isabella shook her head and pulled out the photo of Charles Bentley from her jacket. "Do you recognize this man?" she asked.

The woman nodded. "Charles Bentley," she replied. "He's dead?"

Isabella nodded. "We're in understanding that he favors someone here by the alter ego of 'Venom'?" she asked. The woman nodded and gestured them towards the doors.

"Right this way, detectives."


	11. Suspicions

**_A/N: Okay, so I finally have time to write! I have been so busy lately that I'm starting to slack on this...I am truly sorry!_**

**_RaiN: Ha ha, I know ALL about putting stories on a back-burner when my favorite shows are on! I sing Sexy FLACK when I see him on TV ;D I still freaking love Izzy and Don, they're still my best pairing ever xD. I always swing my legs when I'm up on high stuff. It just feels right! I don't think it occurred to Isabella that she might like Frankie alongside with Don, but who knows? And yes, 'Rizzuko' remains king in this story! _**

* * *

><p><em>Far too pretty to be giving it cheap<em>

_That's why she's makin' six figures w__orking three days a week_

_Yeah, she'd even break a promise in the Promised Land_

_She didn't make it this far by just shakin' hands_

_She'll shake her moneymaker twice as hard as anyone can_

_She didn't make it this far by just shakin' hands_

Nickelback — Shakin' Hands

* * *

><p>The hazy red neon lights were all she could see as she and Frankie found themselves wandering around 'Pounce'. It had rooms divided up with curtains drawn, or doors closed.<p>

"There's no way no sex is going on here," Frankie muttered in her ear. Isabella nodded in agreement. For once, she was glad Don wasn't here for this. He would no doubt make jokes about the joint.

"If there is, we got this," she replied. Her radio was attached to her hip, in contact with the squad car outside. When a tall, slinky leather-clad blonde in sky-high stilettos walked past them, Isabella caught her arm.

"You gotta problem, bitch?" the blonde sneered, looming over Isabella's petite height. Isabella glared back into the woman's grey eyes, causing her to shrink back a bit.

"Look, you may be used to bossing men around, but I don't let people push me around, especially not frigid bitches on a kinky ego trip," she snapped, pushing the woman backwards.

"Excuse me?" the blonde implored. Isabella held up her badge.

"Boston PD, where's Venom?" she demanded. A knowing sneer crossed the woman's features as she turned her attention to Frankie.

"I'm done talking to her," she purred. "Let's see if you'll be a good boy."

"Hey, you may be done talking to me, but I'm not done talking to you," Isabella snapped. When the woman raised a riding crop up, Isabella shoved the woman against a wall and moved her blazer out to reveal her piece.

"Start talkin'," she commanded. When the woman's gaze raked up and down her body, following every contour of Isabella's physique, her domineering glare vanished and one of lust took its place.

"Hey, if cop work doesn't work out, there's always a place for such commanding nature here," she told her. Isabella rolled her eyes and planted her hands onto her hips.

"Thanks for the offer, but I'll pass," she replied. Her gaze snapped to Frankie. "Talk."

"Where's Venom?" he finally asked. He tried to appear intimidating, but it didn't seem to be fazing Blondie.

"That's no way to talk to a lady," Blondie purred, winding herself around him. Annoyance filled Isabella as she stepped closer.

"He asked a question. Start answerin', or I charge you with obstruction of justice," she snapped.

"Venom? There's three of those working here," Blondie finally answered. "You're gonna have to a bit more specific."

"A client named Charles Bentley frequents her time?" Frankie submitted. He held out his hand and Isabella wordlessly handed him the photograph.

"Yeah, I've seen him around quite a bit. He comes here weekly, I thought it was odd that he didn't show up yesterday," Blondie said, her voice a soft murmur.

"The dominatrix he sees frequently is named Venom?" Isabella asked. Blondie nodded and pointed to a room.

"The Venom he sees is in there," she informed them. "Hope you catch the scumbag that did this to Charlie. He was a perv, but he didn't deserve to be killed over it."

* * *

><p>"Man, this case just gets weirder and weirder," Isabella muttered. Frankie nodded in agreement as they approached the room that the blonde dominatrix had pointed them to.<p>

"I dunno, it doesn't seem right to just go on in," she commented as they stood outside. Watching Isabella go all cop against the blonde woman was something he would have paid money to have had recorded. She was definitely someone who he never wanted to piss off. She didn't put up with games, nor did she play them. It was one of the main things he respected her for.

"Well, if we knock, it gives them a chance to hide illegal stuff," he pointed out.

"Then, we knock and go on in," she suggested. She appeared even more out of place in the harsh atmosphere, looking soft and delicate.

"Good idea," he agreed finally. He reached out and knocked on the door. Isabella opened the door, keeping a hand on her weapon. "You've been NYPD too long."

She smirked at him before looking around the room.

"Look, I told you guys I'm out! I don't want none of this shit anymore!" a petite redhead said, her eyes on the two detectives. A man lay on his stomach, his hands tied behind his back and a gag in his mouth. A crop was in the redhead's left hand and she looked at them with annoyance.

"Are you Venom?" Frankie asked. The redhead nodded.

"And you are?" she asked suspiciously. She wore a brown leather and suede bra and panties set, emphasizing her curvaceous frame.

"Boston Homicide," Isabella said, holding up her badge. "I'm Detective Zuko, this is Detective Rizzoli."

"What's this about?" Venom asked. Frankie held up the photo of Charles Bentley and a gasp came from the small woman's mouth. She looked far too sweet and wholesome to be a dominatrix, but from the marks on the man's body, looks were definitely deceiving.

"That's Charlie!" she said. "Charles Bentley, he's dead?"

Isabella nodded and pulled her hand away from her hip.

"He died three days ago and we're currently trying to solve his murder. We found your DNA at his home. You were locked up twice for solicitation and possession," she informed her. "Your real name is Carly O'Brien."

"Me and Charlie, we fooled around, alright?" Venom said. "I don't get paid to screw."

"We found your biological fluids at his home," Frankie told her. "All over the place. Literally."

"He's the only client I screw off the clock, alright? You tell my boss, he's got my ass on a platter," Venom said, looking up into the corner.

"Who do you screw 'on the clock'?" Isabella asked curiously.

Venom pursed her lips as she glared at the petite detective. Isabella stood the same height as she, but Isabella was far scarier.

"I don't screw anyone on the clock, Detective Zuko," Venom replied. "It's a form of prostitution, which is illegal in the US."

"Doesn't seem to have stopped you before," Isabella commented, her eyes narrowing. This was definitely getting off to a bad start. "You got busted twice for screwin' for money."

"Like you know hardship," Venom snorted. "Cops don't know what it's like in the real world. It's ugly out there."

Isabella let out a shrill laugh. "Oh, _I _don't know hardship? Honey, I grew up in Queens. My family? Grew up in Glendale. That's the worst part of Queens, that's where the gangs are. Don't be talkin' shit unless you're ready to hear about war stories."

"Then you know how hard it is out there," Venom said. After that sentence, she pursed her lips. "My lips are sealed."

"At least tell us where you were three days ago at three am," Frankie said.

"Don't remember, I don't always keep track," she replied vaguely. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have something to finish up here."

* * *

><p>"We gotta whole lot of nothing from that club," Isabella announced as they walked into the bullpen. "Besides a splitting headache."<p>

"Aw, it wasn't a total bust," Frankie commented as they both collapsed onto the couch. "You nearly decked a dominatrix."

"Whoa, what?" Don said, setting down his coffee cup. "You saw her take on a dominatrix and I wasn't there to see it?"

"It was nothing, Don," Isabella assured him. "All we really got is a suspected prostitution ring in there, and my annoyance just went up a couple of notches."

"Was it hot?" he asked Frankie. "Seriously, did Pacino nearly deck a couple of chicks?"

"Hey, it was nobody who didn't have it coming," Frankie replied. He let out a cough that sounded suspiciously like a 'yes.'


	12. Complicated

**_A/N: Okay, so it's time to update this! I would have updated this earlier, but I had tons of stuff to do...my friend's mom is dying, so I had to see her one last time :c But anyways, it's time for a little 'Flacino' action ;D Just so Isabella knows she's _really _over Don. Slight M rating for naughtiness ;D Short chapter tonight..._**

**_RaiN: I love to write her, you have no idea! She's so adaptable and so flexible, I was so proud of myself when I thought of her. She was created, actually, specifically for Don Flack in CSI:NY on a website I used to work on. I wasn't allowed to upload stories online because of my decrepit computer, so I could write on the other website. I read over it recently and never realized how atrocious it was! Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday are my free days this week, so I should be getting some chapters done periodically through the day. Sometimes, I write the outline for a chapter at night, finish it off and post it in the morning, but it depends on when I wake up._**

* * *

><p><em>But nobody knows you like I do<em>

_'Cause the world, they don't understand_

_But I grow stronger in your hands_

Darren Hayes — Insatiable (God, this song is so freakin' sexy)

* * *

><p>Isabella sat down on her couch next to Don, her knees to her chest. It was another end of a long work day, and it was fortunate she felt completely comfortable around him. Usually, she would feel self-conscious about wearing a silver tank top and a pair of drawstring shorts.<p>

"God, I feel like I've missed out on so much," she admitted. She wished she could call people more often than three times a week, but it was all she could muster. Sometimes, three times a week was a stretch, due to workload.

"Well, they understand what it's like to have a new job," he replied. She moved closer to him, her head coming to rest on his shoulder, near his neck. Her eyes closed slightly as she felt his lips brush over her hair.

"Still," she murmured. "I should try to stay in contact."

"They don't blame you, Iz," he assured her. When his lips touched her temple, she moved her head instinctively. "Neither do I."

"Easy for you to say," she said, a frown coming between her eyebrows. "You're here now."

"I've been here all along," he said, his voice low and husky. She moved her head around to face him and felt a jolt of surprise at the intensity of desire in his dark blue eyes.

"You've been there when no one else has," she murmured in agreement. She gave no fight as Don slanted his mouth over hers in a tantalizing, spine-tingling kiss. Isabella returned the kiss, her hands resting on his shoulders to deepen it. He slid over her so his body tucked over hers. Her legs parted to allow him better access as they continued the slow make-out. The only sound in the air was the pants of heavy breathing and gentle smacking of two adults.

"Twenty-one years," he murmured as he pulled away. "Twenty-one years, I've wanted this."

Her hips raised to grind slightly against his, feeling a rising bulge in his pants. "Clearly, that's not all you've wanted," she teased lightly. He kissed her nose before kissing her again. She fought a shiver as his mouth moved from hers to pepper feather-light kisses along her now-feverish skin. When he reached the scoop-neck of her tank top, she could no longer suppress it. A soft moan found its way from her throat, ringing in the air.

"You like it when I do that?" he murmured up at her. He gently nibbled the skin on her chest, making up for the brief little pangs by running the tip of his tongue along the top of her tank.

"Yeah," she breathed. Isabella was slightly taken aback by how low and husky her voice was. "God, that feels good."

He chuckled and slid the top off. She felt her face warm as he lowered his gaze to her bare chest.

"We'll know in the morning if this was a mistake," she said, feeling her body break out in goosebumps.

* * *

><p>Isabella felt the sunlight peek through the blinds, warm on her eyelids and she bolted upwards. Sunlight? Wait...<p>

Glancing at her alarm clock, she felt her heart nearly stop. It was seven o'clock in the morning.

She had about an hour to get showered and dressed before she was late. Her gaze fell to the figure beside her, peacefully slumbering. The sheets ended on the middle of his hips, his arms spread wide. The man in the bed was Don.

"God, I thought I dreamed that," she muttered. She pulled the sheets backwards and groped around for her towel. So far, he had slept on the couch-bed in her living room, and last night had been something completely different and out-of-character for her.

After the shower, she tucked the towel around her body and looked around her room for something to wear.

"Is there any hot water left?" Don asked, pulling a shirt over his muscular chest. His electric blue eyes settled on her as if to say "What next?"

"Yeah, I made it a quick one," Isabella replied softly. She clutched the thick, purple towel around her body as she rifled through her dresser for clothing. It was difficult to keep her attention on her dresser when she felt his burning stare on her.

"Listen, about last night..." he started. Her head lifted and she met his gaze.

"If it had happened back in New York, what would have happened?" she prompted.

"God, it was amazing," he finished. "But honestly, is a long-distance relationship something you and I can work out?"

Her heart dropped as she saw the sadness in his eyes as he perched on her bed. Isabella shrugged.

"Lots of them don't," she replied lightly. "It's not like it's permanently long-distance. I go to New York to visit."

"To visit," he repeated. "But not to live."

"Last night just gave meaning to the term "too late"," she murmured. "It happened, but it's too late to change anything."

"Sinclair's more than ready to give you your job back," he offered. "I mean, Suarez was a good uniform, but she's not cut out to be a detective."

"And then we're back to the whole damn no-frat policy!" she said angrily. "You and I had a lot of sexual tension. Now that that's resolved, we're not cut out for a relationship."

"So you're saying you don't want this to go any further," Don stated. Isabella grabbed a pair of black jeans and a gray tank top from her drawers.

"All I'm saying is, we could have had something in the past. If I hadn't lost my job in the lab, I wouldn't have had to transfer here," she replied.

"This is where you belong, Iz," he said. "You've gotten used to the people here, you have your own routine. The NYPD was a brotherhood, but the Boston PD is a family."

"God, where the fuck were you when I was divorcing Danny?" she demanded.

"So, you're blaming me for the demise of your marriage?" he implored, standing up. "The difference between me and Dante Zuko is that I'm not afraid to hurt your feelings, Isabella. Dante played buddy-buddy with you, but I'm not afraid to get into your face and make you see facts."

He was right and Isabella hated it.

The only thing left to ponder was where the hell her friendship with Don was going now.


	13. Dance With the Devil

**_A/N: I had a little bit of time this morning...this rarely ever happens! But this is a short chapter...I promise, I'll make up for it tomorrow!_**

**_RaiN: Aw, well, I'm gonna watch it anyways x3 But yes, I had to stick 'Flacino' in there somehow...love is complicated always! I'm very jealous of Isabella...she makes it all worthwhile, though! Jo's a cougar...but Flack doesn't seem to mind ;D But yes, there will be no 'Flacino' in this story. I promise xD Glad to know my story beats the premiere of CSI: Miami!_**

* * *

><p><em>I believe in you, I can show you<em>

_That I can see right through all your empty lies_

_I won't last long in this world so wrong_

_Say goodbye as we dance with the devil tonight_

_Don't you dare look at him in the eye_

_As we dance with the devil tonight_

Breaking Benjamin — Dance With the Devil

* * *

><p>Self-destructive behavior remained king during the case and off the clock. Isabella ran her hands through her dark hair and rested her head on her hand.<p>

"You okay?" Jane asked. Isabella looked up and shrugged.

"Sure," she replied. She shook her head and felt her shoulders tense. When she met Jane's skeptical gaze, she finally sighed and relented. "No, I'm not."

"It's Flack, isn't it," Jane stated. Isabella nodded and rested her head on her arms.

"Why is it that I'm so self-destructive?" she complained. "Every single relationship I ever have always seems to have such a tragic, intense ending. I mean, seriously, there is such a thing as too late."

There was a silence as she let out a groan. "Well, if you want something, you find a way to make it happen," Jane pointed out.

Isabella peeked up at her friend and raised her eyebrows. "What if there's absolutely no way to make it happen?" she prompted. "What then?"

"Then, it wasn't meant to be," Jane replied. "When that happens, there are two things you can do: wallow on your couch with something chocolaty or find something that gets your mind off him."

"We got the car!" the excitement in Don's voice caused Isabella's head to rise. "IBUS matched the bullets from the trunk to Isabella Zuko's service weapon. You, my dear, are officially in the clear."

A soft smile spread across her face at the news. "Where'd you find the car?" she asked.

He slapped down the warrant. "Doug's Garage," he replied. Her eyes widened at the name. Mario Vasquez worked there.

"Are the techs on processing?" she asked. He nodded, his smirk growing with each second that ticked by.

"Actually, they found a match on the fingerprints. Someone named Carly O'Brien, she got locked up-" he started.

"For solicitation and possession. Street name 'Venom'," Isabella finished. "We've met."

"And Diego," he said simply. Her blood turned to ice at his words and her gaze remained fixed on him.

"Please tell me you're kidding," she pleaded. "If this is a joke, it's not funny."

"It explains why Diego had the Bentley parked at his brother's garage," Don pointed out. "Or why he picked your street to shoot someone up."

"It's a message," she sighed, running her hands through her thick hair.

"He's not done with you yet," Don replied grimly.

"Who's Diego?" Jane asked finally. "Why's he after her?"

"Diego Vasquez is Mario Vasquez's brother. I've known the Vasquez brothers since high school and Diego has an obsession with me that has gone on since I was seventeen years old," Isabella explained. "He made my life a living hell, but he's followed me here."

"Your own personal boogeyman," Jane said bitterly.

* * *

><p>Isabella clutched her service weapon as she moved around the lobby of 'Pounce.' She was too nervous to go on the garage raid, so Cavanaugh had moved her to the raid at the club. Frankie looked over at her, his eyes glazed over with concern.<p>

"You alright?" he asked. She nodded distractedly and waited until the head of the Vice squad kicked open the door. Her duty was to pick up Venom and bring her to the station. An informant had tipped off the Vice squad on the prostitution that went on under the radar at the shady dominatrix club.

"Boston PD, nobody move!" Sergeant James Malloy commanded. Screams of terror filled the air as Isabella moved after the girls.

"Where's Carly O'Brien? Where's Venom?" she demanded, backing Blondie back into a corner. Her weapon was poised to fire if the woman didn't cooperate.

"I don't know!" Blondie replied desperately. "She took the day off!"

"Where is she?" Isabella repeated, her voice a snarl.

"She's been hanging around some guy named Diego, she's probably with him!" Blondie replied, her hands in defense. "Please don't kill me, I have two kids to support!"

Venom was with Diego.

Isabella pulled her cellphone out of her pocket and dialed Don's number. "You're coming with me," she told Blondie. "We're gonna need to have a little chat."

"Flack, it's Zuko," she said into the phone. "Venom's with Diego."

_"Neither of them are here, Iz. We got our eyes everywhere on him, but he's long gone," Don replied. _

"Do what Mac always says: Dig deeper," Isabella insisted. "He couldn't have dropped off the face of the Earth."

* * *

><p>"Start talking, Cindy," Frankie told the blonde dominatrix. He had finally learned her name: Cindy Douglas, or "Blade." "You're already facing obstruction of justice charges."<p>

"I don't know who Diego Vasquez is," Cindy pleaded. "Please, I've only seen him around. He just hangs around Venom."

"He's wanted in New York for stalking, harassment, assault, possession of a concealed illegal weapon, and a whole lot of other very nasty things," Frankie informed her. "You start singin' and you could get leniency in your solicitation sentence for your cooperation."

"Can you do that?" Cindy asked incredulously. He nodded slowly.

"But only if you cooperate," he reminded her. "That's the only way you get your ticket outta here. Tell me what happened."

Cindy took a deep breath, as if weighing her options. "Okay," she finally conceded. "I'll talk."

"Diego came into the picture after Charlie came complainin' into 'Pounce' that he couldn't deal on his parents' street anymore, 'cause some cop moved three houses down from them. Said she was from New York and she was pretty hot," she said.

"How did the word get to Diego?" Frankie asked. Cindy shrugged.

"Word travels, no one knows where it comes from," she replied. "But when he came to 'Pounce' and asked if anyone knew who the cop was, no one knew. He bought the club and ran it completely different than Nemo did. Wanted us to double as whores to rake in more dough and keep our ears to the ground about the cop. I don't know her name or anythin', so don't be lookin' at me for it."

"He was really worked up over this chick is all I know."

"Alright, so he wanted to find this cop. Did he give any hints over her name or anything?" he asked.

"She's from New York, she lives three doors down from Charlie's parents, she's got some big-ass Rottweiler, and she's got attitude is all I know," she replied.

That could only mean one thing.

Diego Vasquez was looking for Isabella Zuko.


	14. Nightmares of the Past

**_A/N: Okay, so I am back in business! I have been anticipating the opportunity to write this all day..._**

**_RaiN: I know, I always update it so late at night, it's the only time I actually have an opportunity to update! And I'm on the East Coast...I usually get home from my sister's around six thirty, but then I gotta help prep for dinner. After that, is usually when I can get a chance to write! Then I have to get off at eleven and go to bed...and even the littlest, microscopic scene made you happy lol. There will be more to come! No worries about the Flack/Jo relationship...I'm rather convinced I am right! Remember with the little, sneaky D/L they brought into the show? And I wrote Jane into that part, specifically because she really does know what it's like to be hunted after like that. They have that common ground! Hoyt was such a good villain...the guy who plays him is always the villain! He's been in everything, from Criminal Minds, CSI:NY, R&I...I see him in everything! I may sneak in a little relaxation scene, just for you ;D_**

* * *

><p><em>Behind a gun, I'll make my final stand, yeah<em>

_And that's why they call me bad company_

_I can't deny_

_Bad, bad company till the day I die_

Five Finger Death Punch — Bad Company

* * *

><p>"What do we know about this guy?" Frankie asked. His eyes rested on Isabella, who was fidgeting with the zipper on her black leather bomber-style jacket. Something, he noticed, she always did when she was nervous or on edge.<p>

"He's got an obsession with Isabella that's gone on for years," Flack replied. "She's filed restraining order after restraining order and orders of protection against him, but he always manages to slip by it."

"How far back are we talking?" Korsak asked. Isabella looked up, her baby blue eyes seemingly haunted.

"Since I was seventeen years old," she replied. "Diego always hung around the gang-bangers in high school. He asked me out once and I said no. Apparently, I was the only person to ever tell him no in his entire life. He pursued me and I still kept saying no, until it became the point of obsession."

"How did you cope with that?" Jane asked, her eyes on the petite detective. Isabella shrugged and crossed her legs, resting her head on her hand.

"I didn't," she admitted. "Until my dad finally stepped up and sent me with my grandparents for the summer at Lake Michigan. For three months, I didn't receive a single note or a threat. I didn't have to look over my shoulder every time I went outside, or worry about being seen in public anymore. When I got back, it was worse than ever."

"How did you escape?" Korsak asked. She shrugged again.

"I joined the police academy," she replied. "I couldn't do anything about my stalker, so I made sure I kept myself busy by making sure others didn't have the same fate. I walked the beat during the day and did my college work at night. When I got my Masters' degree in forensic chemistry, I was accepted into Crime Scene Investigation and I worked there."

"Did he follow you?" Frankie asked. She shook her head.

"That work kept me inside most of the time and you have to have a pass to go into the lab. The only time I saw him was on my days off, or when my shift ended," she replied.

"She transferred to Homicide when the lab laid her off and I took her in as my partner," Flack finished. His eyes were on her and a smile was on her face.

"Don was with me everywhere I went," she said, squeezing his hand. Frankie looked away for a bit, feeling a knot of unease in his stomach. He couldn't help but be jealous of Isabella's former partner. She had that implicit trust in Don Flack that she didn't have with anyone else.

"And here we are today," Frankie commented. She smiled at him, the corners of her eyes turning up as well. The doors opened as Frost ran in.

"We got another body," he said. "It's Carly O'Brien. She's dead."

* * *

><p>Isabella cracked her knuckles as she stood in the room in 'Pounce.' The petite redhead laid on her back in the middle of the room, her blood staining the shag carpeting. Her lifeless golden eyes stared at the ceiling, her mouth open in a silenced scream. A stab wound marred Venom's flawless porcelain skin, as well as a gunshot wound in the breast.<p>

"Her jugular vein was punctured, she was dead in minutes," Maura said as she crouched down next to the blood pool. Isabella shook her head as she studied the victim.

"She was shot with a 9mm," she commented, pointing to the gunshot wound. "You sure that's not official COD?"

"I'll know when I get her to autopsy," Maura replied. Her eyes grew soft as she looked at the young woman. "Only twenty-two years old. So young."

"And she died so tragically," Isabella added grimly. "God, why do these women do what they do?"

The voice from the doorway caught her attention as she turned to face it.

"We do it because it's the only thing some of us are good at," a dark-haired woman said. She was tall, Asian, and ballerina-thin with large eyes, framed with long, curled eyelashes. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a complicated-looking bun, her body clad in a fire-engine red leather bra and matching panties, complete with fishnet stockings and black combat boots.

"This is a crime scene, you're gonna have to step back," Isabella informed her. The woman waved her hand.

"I want to speak to you," the woman replied, her voice a thick Brooklyn accent. Her dark eyes rested on Maura for a moment before settling on her. "Alone."

Isabella looked over at the redheaded ME for a moment. "Let them know I'll be right back, okay?" she said. If this was a lead on the whereabouts of Diego, she was pouncing on this.

"I'll let Frankie know," Maura replied. "He's going to be coming back here in a moment." Isabella nodded.

"Thanks," she replied, following the Asian woman out. She made sure her gun was easy for her to access and only for her to access.

"My name is Juno Patterson," the Asian woman said, looking at Isabella out at the front of the club. Clearly sensing that Isabella would want witnesses. "I was a good friend of Carly's, we grew up together in Brooklyn."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Isabella said. "But what's this got to do with me?"

"You're the cop Diego wants," Juno replied simply. Isabella narrowed her eyes at the taller woman. "I know where he is and I know how you can get to him."

"Why does he want me so badly?" she asked. Juno shrugged and pulled a cigarette out of the cup of her bra and put it between her lips. She flicked the spark to a Bic lighter and took a long drag.

"Whatever you did to piss him off, I personally applaud you," she replied. "Everyone's so fucking scared of him, it's refreshing to see someone who's got the balls to put the little bunny back into his hole."

"Were you part of the prostitution raid on this place?" Isabella asked. Juno scoffed, raising her eyebrow at the petite detective.

"I'm here right now, ain't I?" she retorted. "Besides, I like to keep men in line, not give them what they want."

"Was Venom a prostitute?" Isabella asked, trying not to use the word 'whore'. Respect for the dead.

"Not by choice, if that's what you're asking," Juno replied. "Diego had the majority of those girls work the streets. Venom worked the club. I wanted to part of it, so I just kept behind the scenes."

"How long has Diego been in Boston?" Isabella asked. Juno shrugged.

"About a year or so, I guess," she replied. "Probably about eighteen months."

"Did his brother call him?" Isabella asked, her eyes meeting the pretty woman's.

"Not sure. I wasn't really close to him," Juno replied. "Didn't even know he had a brother."

"Did he say why he came to Boston?" Isabella prompted. Juno's eyes glittered as she studied her.

"Redemption, he called it," she replied. "Redemption and true love."


	15. Get Out Alive

**_A/N: Now that I ended my CSI:NY fanfiction 'Chain Reaction', I have more time to work on this!_**

**_RaiN: Yeah, I do live on the East Coast. All my reviewers are important to me, but like I always say, I enjoy our little chats c: I don't think Frankie really gets how much he wants Izzy. And I don't think Izzy knows how much she wants him! I'm just on a freaking roll these past few days!_**

* * *

><p><em>If I stay, it won't be long<em>

_Till I'm burning on the inside_

_If I go, I can only hope_

_That I make it to the other side_

Three Days Grace — Get Out Alive

* * *

><p>Isabella drummed her fingers on her armrest in her truck as she chewed over Cavanaugh's words.<p>

_"If we're going to get this son of a bitch, we need bait," he had said. "Since you're the only one he wants, you're the logical choice."_

Her eyes rested on her partner for a minute before she spoke.

"Hey, Frankie, I need some advice," she said, her words breaking the silence. He looked over at her, his puppy-like brown eyes meeting her blues.

"About?" he prompted. She took a deep breath before answering.

"Cavanaugh wants me to be bait to catch Diego," she replied. She cracked her knuckles absentmindedly. "I mean, I've been bait before, it's just that..."

"You would be completely on your own for the first time," he finished. "Something I know you're not comfortable with."

Isabella nodded slowly. "That probably sounds silly, right? I mean, I'm a cop, I shouldn't be so reliant on a Rottweiler to keep me safe when I sleep or when I'm off work."

He kept their gazes locked for a long moment before speaking again.

"This job calls for you to be on guard, no matter what," he said. "The fact that you have such a huge amount of trust and respect for your dog isn't a bad thing. You're one of the most guarded, careful people I've met."

She felt a self-assured smile tug at the corner of her mouth and she looked down a bit.

"I mean it."

"Thanks," she said softly. She started to fidget with the zipper on her jacket, feeling his gaze on her.

"You're not gonna be alone on this, though," he told her. "The team's halfway down the block."

"I know," she replied. "It's just a little nerve-wracking that I really am alone on this. No Chachi to have my back when I really need it." Jane had agreed to take the monstrous Rottweiler, saying he would get along well with Jo Friday.

"You're our best bet to catch a stalker, as well as a killer," he reminded her. "This could be the thing that really relaxes you. Once and for all."

A small smile formed on her face at the thought. She wouldn't have to look over her shoulder anymore.

"You're really good at this pep-talk thing," she complimented him.

"I know you'll miss Flack when he goes back to New York, too," he replied.

"When he goes, I'm staying, you know," she said. "He's not my partner anymore, he's just a really close friend."

"I know," he replied. "But it's weird to see him here and have you two working together on this."

A note of understanding resonated in her mind as it clicked. He was jealous of Don.

"He's the only other cop who knows my system," she explained. "Like you do." It had taken her a year to smooth out the rookie's rough edges, but he was quick in interrogations now. She didn't have to look at him for him to ask questions.

"Do you trust me?" he asked. She twisted her mouth in thought as she studied Frankie. Yes, she knew from the moment he had shot at a suspect trying to get the drop on her, that he was someone she was able to place her trust in.

"Yes."

* * *

><p>It was the night that everything went into motion. Isabella had been alone the night before by herself and Flack had said that if he knew Diego's MO, he would strike that night.<p>

"We got audio feed in the house, right?" Frankie asked. Frost tapped a couple of keys in the truck.

"Can you hear us, Isabella?" he asked.

_"Loud and clear," her Queens drawl radioed in. _

"Alright, loud and clear on this end, too, Blue Eyes," Frankie said, pressing the off button. Soon, he could feel burning stares on him.

"Blue Eyes?" Frost repeated.

"What? I reserve the right to call her that," Frankie defended.

"It sounds either derogatory or personal," Flack spoke up.

"It's personal, only because I can't call her 'shorty' like you can," Frankie retorted. "She's never corrected me when I call her 'Blue Eyes', so I don't think she really cares."

An understanding look passed between Frost and Flack.

"Ooh, I wondered when those two were gonna..." Frost trailed off.

"Damn, you'd think she'd tell me," Flack added. "I wouldn't have pushed."

Pushed what? Then it hit him.

"Oh no, you guys don't think..." Frankie trailed off. "Me and her? Hell, no."

"Hey, we didn't say anything, bro," Flack said, holding up his hands in defense. "You were the one who insinuated."

"Which means, he either likes her or there's somethin' goin' on," Frost finished.

"There's nothing going on," Frankie insisted. "Trust me, I wouldn't go after my partner."

"She was my partner once, too," Flack reminded him. "And believe me, if she hadn't been..."

* * *

><p>Isabella turned off the lamp in her living room, clutching the radio in her hand.<p>

_Only in emergencies, only in emergencies, only in emergencies. _She chanted it to herself as she placed the radio next to her bed. The sense of vulnerability nearly overwhelmed her as she climbed under the covers. Isabella tucked the covers by her chin and nestled under the covers. Wishing like hell that Chachi were here.

The sound of her front window breaking caused her eyes to fly open as she rifled through her nightstand drawer for her weapon. But coming up empty.

She didn't have her piece anywhere. Instead, she looked around for the radio.

"Guys, he's here," she said.

_"Alright, hang tight, we'll send an undercover around," Frost's voice came over the radio line. _

"Copy that," she replied. The sound of a car coming down the street caused her heart rate to slow down a tad. It wasn't until she saw someone standing at the back window that she let out a scream.

She felt tremors take over her body as she saw his face in the dim light. When the window was broken, her breath came out in ragged whimpers.

Isabella felt a hamper hit the back of her knees and she tumbled backwards, the radio flying out of her hand. She searched for it and came up empty. The glass crunched under his feet as she crab-walked out of the bedroom. All she could do was race for the door or turn on the light. Her hand nearly touched the switch before she felt her body being lifted upwards. She writhed against him, kicking over anything she could.

"Let me go!" she cried. His hand clamped down over her mouth as he dragged her towards the back door. Isabella grabbed anything she could to beat him down with. When she felt something heavy hit her over the head, she collapsed cold.

* * *

><p>"Isabella, do you copy?" Frost asked again. He looked at the other two detectives. "Gear up, boys, we're going in."<p>

Frankie grabbed his service weapon, sliding it into its holster before hopping out of the truck. It was about four houses down from her house and he jogged after Frost before looking at the broken window near the door. Usually, the door would have been unlocked.

"The cop car spooked him from using this entrance," Flack commented. They walked around to the back of the house, spying more broken glass. When they stepped into the house, they looked around. Frankie shone his flashlight around the living space, noticing how messy it was. Compared to her desk at the bullpen. If someone had so much as moved something of Isabella's, she would freak out.

"Here's the radio," Frost called from the bedroom. He held up the discarded radio. "She's definitely gone."


	16. Dominance

**_A/N: OH NO! ISABELLA HAS BEEN KIDNAPPED OOOOOO: But I also bring Danny Messer into this. He is from CSI:NY too 8DDDD I love Danny!_**

**_RaiN: I know, it feels like I just got started with this story lol. They're not legitimately together, but that could change...I'll save it for when Don leaves xD But I loved writing the "F-trio", I giggled the entire time. I could just picture them saying that! _**

* * *

><p><em>Hold your breath, quiet, don't say a word<br>__You can run but it won't do any good  
><em>_Prayers forsaken when you have no faith inside  
><em>_It's not time to die  
><em>_Your life, is it a lie? When you get what you're looking for  
><em>_Your craves subside  
><em>_Or will you crawl into a casket, an early tomb?  
><em>_Lay down, give up inside, she'd rather die_

_When you fall, so spent from emotion  
>She is what brings you to your feet<br>__Where challenges lie on the verge of destruction  
>She pulls you back and she gives you wings<br>Death won't hold you as tight as she will _

Atreyu — Her Portrait In Black (God, this song is so freaking perfect for Isabella. This song actually helped inspire her)

* * *

><p>Isabella stumbled as she was shoved into a room. She looked around the room, trying to memorize as many details as possible. It looked like a cheap motel, like in movies. It had a bathroom on the other side of the room and cheap red wallpaper with little hearts embossed on the wall. Her nose crinkled in disgust as she looked at the large heart-shaped bed in the middle of the room. A bucket of ice and a bottle of champagne were on the table. In horror, she recognized a honeymoon-suite.<p>

"Where am I?" she asked, her panic rising. She swallowed it back and continued to wrack her brains for something. Anything. When she glanced outside, she saw the Empire State Building's light flashing in the distance. In horror, she knew exactly where she was.

Diego Vasquez had brought her back to New York City.

"You're where you belong," Diego responded. "With me, where I can keep an eye on you."

He lifted her up into his arms and she writhed against him. He pressed her against the headboard of the bed, pinning her wrists against the worn wood. God, motel rooms were so unsanitary...

Her heart dropped to her toes when she saw the long, silver switchblade in his hand. He pressed the tip to her throat threateningly.

"I don't belong to you!" she spat, writhing against him. He wouldn't cut her...would he?

Her wrists were tied to the wooden headboard and she was incapacitated. The ropes chafed raw against her skin as she thrashed again.

"Stop that fighting now!" Diego ordered. She stuck out her chin defiantly as she surveyed him. The man who had haunted her dreams now no longer scared her...

He infuriated her. She was no longer scared of him, she loathed him with everything in her. And she damn well knew that if she were ever free from these bindings, she would kill him with whatever she could find. He was heavier than she, and a lot stronger. Isabella had speed on her side, and she could run for her life. Find anything, anyone to call 911.

It was her only choice...

* * *

><p>"Last night, one of our own was kidnapped by a killer," Cavanaugh said, looking at the team. "Currently, we are on the hunt to find Diego Vasquez to get back Zuko. He is presumed heavily armed and very dangerous. This case is top priority, all other cases go to the back-burner to find Detective Zuko."<p>

Frankie saw the fierce determination in the Chief's eyes as he looked at everyone. The FBI had gotten involved and Evangeline Romero, Isabella's half-sister, was the head agent on the case. Standing next to her was a tall man with dark hair and brown eyes. An FBI badge hung from his belt as he studied Cavanaugh with burning eyes.

"Where was she last seen?" the male FBI agent asked. Frankie spoke up.

"She was last seen at her house, about one hundred and fifty yards from police protection," he answered. "Diego broke in the back door and got her out that way."

"Are there any leads on her whereabouts?" the man asked. "Any at all?"

"Dante, we're doing everything we can," Flack said. "They want her back as badly as you do."

Evangeline scribbled down notes, her eyes burning on Flack. "Don, it's Isabella we're talking about," she reminded him. "Zuko just wants her safe."

Dante Zuko?

Isabella's ex-husband.

"We have some results," a crime scene tech said, holding up a clipboard. "Trace on soil found on the hardwood came back with plant DNA. We ran it through Mass-Spec and found traces of Athyrium filix-femina, or a lady fern."

"Those are only grown in New York City," Flack said, taking the tablet.

"And another thing," the tech added, her eyes resting on him. "The DNA was layered, indicating he was walking through it more than once."

"Then, we'll try to pinpoint where the fern grows," Frankie suggested. "Call the NYPD and have them keep an eye out."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Flack muttered. "We need more than just plant DNA in order to get the NYPD involved."

"Since I discovered the plant DNA from New York, I decided to look closer into something. I found the remains of a bacteria also found in New York. I widened my search and I found a motel," the tech said. Frankie pointed to the tech. The name of the motel was "Sagebrush Inn" in Lower Manhattan.

"Is that enough?" he prompted dryly. Flack nodded.

"It's a start, I'll call my superiors and give them this address," he replied.

"I'll call the motel, see if anyone matching Diego's description moved into a room," Frankie said, taking the tablet over to the phone on his desk.

* * *

><p>Danny clutched his service weapon as he looked at the uniform. He reached out and knocked on the door.<p>

"Diego Vasquez, NYPD!" he called. His response was nothing. After a few more knocks, he kicked open the door. The sight he saw in the trashed suite left a sick knot in his stomach.

Sheets were strewn everywhere, traces of blood, and ropes from a headboard. But no sign of the spunky former NYPD detective.

"Dammit!" he growled, hitting the door frame. Time was running out...

With that in mind, he radioed in. "Bring the crime lab here, this place is a scene," he said.

_"Copy that, Sergeant Messer," his partner radioed in. _

"Isabella Pacino, where the hell are you?" he growled into the nothingness.

* * *

><p>Isabella writhed against Diego until she was finally able to get one shot at his face. Her fist collided with his mouth, and she saw blood fly with a feeling of sick satisfaction.<p>

"You'll pay for that," he snarled, wrenching her onto the forest floor. She flashed another punch, landing with his gut.

"You will!" she snapped, wrenching him onto his stomach and pinning him down. Pain shot through her body like a white-hot arrow, searing through her ankle. Blood poured out of cuts all over her body, and she felt a throbbing pain in her rib cage.

A fight for dominance ensued as his hands finally closed around her throat, cutting off her airways. She hit his face with her fists as hard as she could, but as he applied more pressure, she felt the fight drain out of her slowly. She wasn't going down without a fight. Isabella Zuko would make damn sure that if this was how she was going to die, she was going to take this son of a bitch with her.


	17. Down With The Sickness

**_A/N: Okay, so now, we know that Isabella's in New York again!_**

**_RaiN: I know, I'm so excited! And yes, I loved writing that part. I could just picture Danny in that uniform...and wow, Isabella and Jane really are alike! Because Diego's already done so much, Isabella just doesn't care anymore. She just wants it to end so she can move on and put it in the past. The thing about Dante is that he and Isabella love each other, just in a different way. They were really close friends before they got married, and sometimes, love fades. And indeed, there wouldn't be a very exciting story if I just up and killed off the main character! I've actually got the next chapter all written up...and something I wrote as a little filler. When the time comes, I'll post the filler chapter, because my muse just wouldn't leave me alone! The difference between Hoyt and Diego is that Hoyt wanted to kill Jane. Diego is in love with Isabella. _**

* * *

><p><em>Looking at my reflection<em>

_When suddenly it changes_

_Violently, it changes_

_Oh there is no turning back now_

_You've woken up the demon in me_

Disturbed — Down With The Sickness

* * *

><p>Frankie held his radio firmly in his hand as he walked through the woods. His flashlight remained in his right hand as he flashed it around.<p>

"C'mon, Blue Eyes, make some noise," he muttered to himself as he took a marked trail down the hill. He shone the light around the woods until he reached a log.

Stepping over it, the beam caught a lock of dark hair. Under a pile of dead leaves, he saw an arm. And blood.

Frantically, Frankie moved the leaves until the still silhouette of Isabella was revealed. He pressed his hand to her pulse. Faint pulse, but she wasn't breathing. He pressed the button on his radio to signal his position.

"This is Detective Rizzoli, I found Detective Zuko. Faint pulse, she's not breathing, I want a bus out here now," he ordered. Blood stained the front of her white ribbed tank top, her blue and magenta striped pajama pants ripped and tattered.

"Isabella," he said, patting her cheek. It was icy cold to the touch. "Isabella, it's Frankie. C'mon, let me see those pretty blue eyes."

No response. He tilted her head backwards and lowered his mouth to hers, blowing air into her lungs. Her lips tasted of blood, but he ignored it. He blew into her two more times before lowering his head to her chest. Sirens blared in the distance as he heard slight breathing. He continued with mouth-to-mouth until her heartbeat was steady enough. Quickly, he pulled off his jacket and slid it around her to warm her slightly.

"F-F-Frankie?" her breathy voice caused him to turn his head. Frankie turned at the sound of his name and saw her eyes opened into slits. He rested her head onto his lap, touching her skin.

"Yeah, I'm right here, Isabella," he told her. "You're gonna be alright, I got a bus on its way."

_"How's Isabella now?" Flack radioed in. "We can't get the ambulance down there."_

"I got her breathing up, I can bring her," Frankie replied into the radio. He looked down at her and saw the steady rise and fall of her chest. She was okay to move. "Does your back hurt anywhere? Can you feel your legs?"

"Y-Yeah, I can move my legs," she whispered. "It just hurts to breathe."

"I'm getting you to that ambulance," he informed her. "Are you near the trail?" he asked into the radio.

_"Just outside of the woods," Flack radioed back. "We're prepped, so get her here now."_

"Roger that," Frankie replied. He looped his arm under her knees, his other arm winding around her waist, hoisting her into his arms. Her lithe body felt weightless in his arms as he moved his way up the hill. Her head was tucked in the crook of his neck. "You alright?"

"Yeah," she replied. "Thanks for carrying me. If I could walk, I would."

"No worries," he assured her.

* * *

><p>Pain was all she felt when she woke up. Everything was blindly white and bright, her eyes blinked back against the harsh glow. Her room was empty as the effects of the anesthesia wore off. Isabella looked around the room, noticing that her pajamas had been replaced with a hospital gown. Needles stuck out in her arm, an IV drip at her side. When she turned her head, she saw her partner passed out in the chair.<p>

"Hey, you're awake," she heard someone comment. Isabella turned her head and saw her little brother, Ian. She smiled at him and nodded.

"Yeah, I am," she replied. "What happened?"

Ian's blue eyes met hers nervously as he took another chair near her side. "Well, Diego nearly killed you. Evidence in your house put him here in New York, so your partner and Flack hopped a plane and flew here," he replied. "Frankie saved your life."

Isabella's eyes widened. "He did?" she asked softly. Ian nodded soberly.

"He found you under some leaves and was able to get you breathing," he replied. She turned her attention back to Frankie, who was passed out on the chair. His chest rose and fell with each breath, his head propped onto his hand.

"How long has he been here?" she asked. Her brother shrugged.

"About an hour or so," he replied. "Poor guy's been running on fumes."

"Damn," she commented. As she turned her body, she felt a pull. "How many stitches do I have?"

"About forty in all," he replied. "I had to give you some of my blood." A smile spread across her face as she reached up her arms to hug him.

"Look at you, lookin' after your sister," she said. She squeezed his face in her hand, imitating their mother. "You have such a face."

He kissed her cheek. "I always look after my sister," he replied. "She always looks after me."

"I look like hell, don't I?" she asked pointedly. He ruffled her hair.

"Little bit, yeah."

* * *

><p>"You want to what?" Lieutenant Sythe demanded. "He nearly killed you, Pacino!"<p>

Isabella shifted uncomfortably in her wheelchair as she faced her former boss. Her ankle was still injured, and she wasn't properly healed to have crutches.

"I know, but it was because the guys were too far away. The audio wasn't properly hooked up, so they couldn't get to me in time. Now that we have the NYPD sources, this is foolproof," she pointed out. "Now that I won't technically be alone, I think it's doable."

"Are you trying to commit suicide?" Sythe asked. "Seriously, I will put you on watch."

"You're not my boss anymore, Sythe," Isabella retorted. "We're close, I can feel it. Closure needs to be brought to Carly O'Brien's family, and to Charles Bentley's too."

When she spoke Carly O'Brien's name, something brought her back to her conversation with Juno Patterson.

_"I was a good friend of Carly's, we grew up together in Brooklyn."_

That was when it clicked.

"I know where Diego is."

* * *

><p>The first things first, Isabella had wanted to speak to her former informants.<p>

"Arnold Bennett," she said with a smile as she wheeled herself into interrogation. "So nice to see you again."

"I hear it's important," the tall, skinny ex-junkie said. His fire-red hair stuck out from under his white beanie and his beady almost-black eyes stared at her.

"Do you know Carly O'Brien?" Isabella asked. She set down the photo and Arnold looked at it. He shrugged.

"Looks familiar," he replied. She nodded and slid the photo back.

"How about Diego Vasquez, ex-El Puño?" she asked, sliding the photo of Diego forward. Arnold nodded.

"Yeah, I've seen him," he replied. "Hangs out down the street from me."

"You seen him recently?" she asked, looking him dead in the eye. "This is of the utmost importance that you tell me the truth."

"I saw him about an hour before you guys scooped me up," Arnold answered. "Gloating about how he finally put the past to rest and some bitch was in the ground where she belonged."

Isabella tried to stuff down the anger inside of her and smoothed her jet-black hair out of her face.

"I know the bitch was you," he said out of nowhere. "I knew when he said he put the past to rest that he was talking about you."

"What did you do?" she asked before she could stop herself. She couldn't deny her curiosity.

"I told him that he was nuts for thinking he could get away with it," he replied.

"I've got men looking for him right now. Will they find him if he's where you said he was?" she asked hesitantly. Arnold nodded.

"Diego doesn't go many places anymore," he replied. "You'll find him."


	18. Best Friends

**_A/N: There was almost no chapter tonight! I had to go house-hunting with my mom and my sister today, so it took a long time to do! I'm just happy I was able to get here C: And I thought it was time that something happened between them...short chapter right now_**

**_RaiN: Lol, the muse cannot be denied! But Frankie knew what he was doing...he was given a small canvas! Foolproof! Isabella is definitely a strong woman, but that's what I love about writing her. She's got her faults, and she's lived through a lot, but she's definitely a tough one. That's why I picked "Won't Back Down" as the title for this story, because she never does! I loved writing those lines, I could just picture Frankie saying that in the cold, dark woods to his fallen comrade..._**

* * *

><p><em>God only knows how I needed a friend<em>

_Who can see through the boldness and pride_

_Someone strong enough to put my faith in_

_Someone willing enough to let me inside_

SheDaisy — I Dare You

* * *

><p>Isabella slid her tongue ring along the roof of her mouth, trying her hardest to calm down. It was easier said than done, due to the fact that two people she cared about were out risking their necks to save her.<p>

"They've got this," she heard Dante say. She looked up at her ex-husband and chuckled. Her tongue ring ran across her teeth as she drummed her fingers on the armrest of the wheelchair.

"I wish I was out there with them," she admitted. "Being stuck in a wheelchair like this doesn't feel right."

"Quit being such a damn martyr," he told her. "Be thankful you're alive and quit trying to be the damn hero for once."

"It's not just my problem anymore, that's the issue," she said. She felt him pat her cheek abruptly. It was his way of keeping her in check.

"Martyr," he singsonged. She smiled at him, patting his hand. "This isn't just your problem anymore, that's why you need to depend on them."

"I trust them," she argued. "It's just...I feel guilty for dragging them into this."

"If they didn't want to be here, they wouldn't," he pointed out. "They want to help you. The sooner you put this behind you, the sooner you can get on with your life."

"True," she agreed slowly. "You're good at calming me down and changing my mind. Why did I ever divorce you?" she teased.

He chuckled and kissed her cheek. "We're too good of friends to ever be husband and wife," he replied.

"Bet you haven't had a lay like me since," she winked. Sex had always been their running joke, but it was the boasted sexual prowess that had gotten them into bed and ultimately into a relationship.

"True," he agreed. "Bet you haven't gotten laid like that since either."

Isabella let out a scoff. "Yeah right, Zuko," she retorted. "Man, we still joke about sex. Watch, we're gonna wind up right back where we started."

"Man, I hope not," Dante replied, kissing the top of her head. "I like you too much to ever screw you again. But I'm gonna get some coffee."

"Get me some?" she requested. He nodded with a crooked grin.

"Sure thing, doll," he replied. If there was anything that had attracted her to her ex-husband, it was that devil-may-care grin of his. She could be pissed off at him one minute, but the next, she could barely keep her hands off of him.

She wheeled herself away from the desk and took a deep breath. So far, she hadn't seen her partner since she had been released from the hospital. When he came back, she would have him talk to her.

"Thanks," she said to Dante as he handed her the Styrofoam cup. She took a deep sip and shuddered. After a year of being gone from the NYPD, their coffee still sucked.

"So, who's your new partner?" Dante asked, leaning against Don's desk. Isabella raised her eyebrow in confusion. Did he really not know?

"Frankie Rizzoli," she replied. "I told you when I transferred. He had just passed his detective's exam and they wanted to pair him up with someone experienced in the field."

"They paired you with a rookie," he said condescendingly. "After looking at your record, they put you with a rookie."

"He's a good cop," she informed him. "Thinks with his head, not his gut. The NYPD could use a few of those."

"So could the FBI," he chuckled.

* * *

><p>"Thanks for helping me in the woods," Isabella said as she limped with the help of a cane. "Well, technically, you saved my life, but that seemed just a little bit cliche."<p>

Frankie chuckled as he helped her out to the car. "I know you would have done the same," he offered. She stretched onto her good foot and pressed her lips to his cheek in a quick kiss.

"What was that for?" he asked. She adjusted the bamboo cane and shrugged.

"Just a way of saying thanks," she answered. He wrapped his arms around her narrow waist in a gentle hug. "You really had my back back there."

"That's what partners are for, right?" he pointed out. She had to smile at the statement and nodded.

"Yeah, that's true," she agreed. "Oh wait, I forgot my phone in the precinct!"

The edge of the cane caught a crack and she stumbled backwards. Isabella's arms flailed out to maintain her balance, but Frankie caught her arm and pulled her back onto her feet.

"Be a little more careful, alright? You don't need to, ah, break your tailbone on top of that bum ankle you got there," he said. Her breath came out raggedly as their faces remained inches apart.

"Th-Thanks," she stammered out. _God, I'm such an idiot, did I really just stutter? _"Looks like you saved my ass from the dirty New York sidewalk." He chuckled and picked up her cane.

"C'mon, Detective House," he told her. "Before you break your neck." He gave her a quick wink and helped her into the car.

"I still don't have my phone," she called. Frankie gave her a wave before jogging into the station to collect the phone. When he disappeared from sight, Isabella slapped her hand against her forehead repeatedly. From the way her body reacted to having her partner so close, it was like she was on drugs. Because now she knew that if he kissed her, she wouldn't stop him.

* * *

><p>Frankie shuddered as he walked towards the precinct doors. The sight of Isabella's frightened and widened blue eyes had stirred something in him and it had taken every ounce of self-control to not take advantage of the situation.<p>

"Hey yo, Rizzoli!" Flack's thick Queens accent rang out in the precinct. He held Isabella's iPhone in his hand and he handed it to him. "Iz forgot her phone."

"Yeah, I just came back for it," Frankie explained, sliding the phone into his pocket. "Thanks."

Flack's face grew somber as he looked at him. "If you like her, don't wait like I did," he told him in a low voice. "It'll bite you in the ass."

"Nothing's going on," Frankie assured him.

"I've known Isabella for a very long time and it's made me somewhat of an expert," Flack said. "You like her and she likes you. Don't spoil that, because if you do, I'll kick your ass."

"But if you're smart, you'll wait till we get Diego."


	19. Flirting With Danger

**_A/N: Oh my good Lord, I am so tired! Grocery shopping, babysitting...I am a woman who wears many hats!_**

**_RaiN: OMG IKR I love Aly Michalka! She's so pretty! And yes, I would kill to see more Flack/Jo. Technically, they can have a relationship, because they don't work in the same department. And I loved writing Izzy and Dante together, it kind of made him more real than just a passing mention. No worries, there won't be any drama between them! I felt it was time to make Izzy and Frankie progress...originally, they were going to kiss, but I decided to be a little more mean and drag it out a bit more. I know, I'm so evil! 8D _**

* * *

><p><em>It's a cold and crazy world that's raging outside<em>

_But baby, me and all my girls are bringin' on the fire_

_Show a little leg, gotta shimmy your chest_

_It's a life, it's a style, it's a need_

Christina Aguilera — Express

* * *

><p>Isabella was bait once more. Except, not for Diego. Oh no, this was a new case that called for her. Fortunately, she hadn't seen the suspect, so he would have no idea she was a cop.<p>

"How's that ankle of yours?" Korsak asked her. She rolled her left ankle in a circle.

"Good as new," she replied with a grin. She had flirted with the suspect, busting out some of her old moves. His name was Ryan Lazlo and he was currently taking her out to dinner.

"If he gets fresh with you, just shoot him," Korsak instructed her. She raised her eyebrow questioningly.

"Shoot him?" she repeated. He shrugged, setting her weapon onto her neat desk.

"Politely," he replied. Isabella rolled her eyes skywards and fixed her dress. It was her favorite, a black and nude lacy little number. It hit mid-thigh and had a deep V-neck, the lace trim brushing her thighs as she walked.

"Man, I hope this works," she said. "This is my favorite dress and I will happily shoot anyone who makes me ruin it."

Ryan was the prime suspect in a series of brutal rape/homicides. Isabella fit his MO: petite with dark hair. And the women had been promiscuous, which had set Isabella apart.

"Well, you're gonna knock him dead," she heard Jennifer comment. "You should wear it more than once a year."

"Hey, I gotta have some sort of shock factor, Jen," Isabella pointed out. "If I wore stuff like this often, I wouldn't get as much attention." She had been surprised to see how little flirting she had to do in order to get his attention. Simply by leaning a little bit forward as he talked and looking up at him with big eyes from her eyelashes had him hooked.

"True," Jennifer agreed. "But then again, those blue eyes of yours never did you any harm."

Isabella grinned at her friend and slid the heels onto her feet. "Hey, it's one of the best things my mama ever gave me."

Maura leaned forward, examining the black, satiny stilettos. "Giuseppe Zanotti," she commented. "Very nice."

"I got them in New York," Isabella replied. "At a divorcee sale. I would've paid nearly a thousand bucks for them at Barney's or Bergdorf's."

"A divorcee sale?" Jennifer echoed. Isabella chuckled.

"They're a really big hit in New York right now," she explained. "When you get divorced, you sell all the stuff your husband bought you to get rid of the physical memories of it."

"Did you ever do that?" Maura asked. Isabella shook her head no.

"I never really wanted all the fancy clothes. Dante wanted to get me stuff I wanted growing up, but I told him no," she replied. "If I pay top dollar for something, I'm gonna use it till it breaks. The only thing I ever let him buy me, was my Tundra." It had been an incredibly thoughtful gift after she had mentioned a time or two that she loved trucks, but they were impractical for the city. A few months after their anniversary, he had bought her the brand-new truck. It hadn't been the gift that had blown her away, it was the thought behind it.

"Hey, you ready to go?" she heard Frost ask. When he stopped in the bullpen, his eyes widened. "Oh damn, you're like sex on heels, girl."

Isabella leaned off of the desk and smoothed out the skirt of her dress. "Sex on stilettos," she mused. "I like it."

* * *

><p>After small talk had gotten them back to his apartment, Isabella sat down on the couch. Her phone was on speakerphone and mute, tucked away in her black lace bra. He had disappeared into the kitchen for wine. Isabella, of course, knew better than to drink it. Roofies had been found in the women's systems. Ryan Lazlo was a tall, muscular man with a dark brown crew cut.<p>

Safe word was together'. She also knew that if Ryan continued to drink, he would get more and more bold. If he forced himself on her, she would use the safe word and defend herself until he got there.

"What, no wine for you tonight?" Ryan asked, his tone slightly agitated. Isabella shook her head and twisted her torso to face him, her legs smoothly crossed. She smiled slowly before propping her head onto her hand.

"I like to keep my wits about me," she replied smoothly. "That way, there's no cracks or gimmicks." He seemed interested now as his hand slowly slid onto her knee.

"That's a good idea," he agreed, sliding forward. When he slid a bit too close into her comfort zone, she leaned back.

"Whoa, what are you doing?" she asked. "That's my personal space."

His dark eyes glittered in the dim light as he moved himself forward. "I like a woman who knows what she likes," he said in a low voice. Isabella squirmed.

"I'm not comfortable with that," she stated. "Please back off."

"I buy you dinner and drinks and you just blow me off?" he implored. "You're just like those sluts about town."

She wriggled against him. "We'll never be together!" she snapped. He pinned her wrists to the couch as he reached into an end-table drawer. Her blood ran cold as the long blade of the knife was revealed. Isabella rammed her knee into Ryan's gut. He let out a groan and dropped the knife. Quickly, she shoved him backwards and ran for her purse. It contained her gun and cuffs. Mid-stride, she was yanked onto the ground. The minute she saw the knife shining in the dark as he poised to drive it into her heart, the door was kicked open.

"Boston PD, put your hands up!" she heard Jane yell. Never had she ever been so happy to see her co-workers in her entire life.

* * *

><p>"I'm a magnet for shiny, sharp objects," Isabella complained from her desk. "Seriously, I nearly get knifed by a psycho rapist, I get stabbed by a psycho stalker, and when I was a uniform, I got slashed by a psychotic psycho."<p>

"You're not a magnet for knives, you're a magnet for psychos wielding knives," Jane corrected. Isabella snorted.

"What's the difference?" she pointed out. "Somehow, they all wind up near me or in me."

She had finally changed out of the dress into her old NYPD academy sweatpants and an old, tight-fitting black T-shirt, her Converse-clad foot bouncing.

"Well, you've been officially cleared for active duty," Korsak offered. "No psycho's gonna stab or slash you any time soon."

"I'm relieved," Isabella replied honestly. "I still can't sleep without Chachi in the same room." Her dog had happily forgiven her for leaving her with Jane and Jo Friday.

"He's a good guard dog," Jane commented. "Seriously, he wouldn't let anyone near me for the longest time."

"He is a good dog," Isabella agreed. "Chachi has come a long way."

"Chachi...what's that from?" Frost asked. Isabella raised her eyebrow as she surveyed him.

"Chachi Arcola from Happy Days," she replied slowly. "He's the cousin of the Fonz."

"Happy Days?" Frost echoed. Her eyes bulged.

"You've never seen Happy Days?" she gasped. He had missed out on so much. "Sunday, Monday, Happy Days," she quoted the theme song.

"Doesn't ring any bells," he replied. Her jaw dropped in utter shock. How had he lived?

"Oh my God," she said. "You have missed out on so much in life."

"Who missed out on what?" Frankie asked as he walked in. She looked up at him, wide-eyed.

"Frost has never seen Happy Days," she accused, pointing at him. "Like, ever."

"She has an obsession with old TV shows," Frankie explained. "Honestly, there are shows she's talked about that I don't even know."

"Because old TV shows are the shit," Isabella defended.


	20. NotSoNew Detective

**_A/N: Okay, so today had its severe ups and downs. My family and I found a house we love, but it turned out to be scam. On the bright side, I spent fifteen bucks in groceries on "feel-good" food. Basically, I bought caramel turtle apples, sparkling grape juice, and bagels. Welch's sparkling white grape juice is the shit!_**

**_RaiN: Ha ha, thank you! I'm glad you still like this story. I'm still deliberating on how I'm going to make the kiss happen...there just doesn't seem like a right time. (I've already written the sex though...that'll be later on! xD) Hey, I'm a chick and I think Izzy (Joanna Pacitti) is pretty damn hot lol. Frost has already figured out that the two like each other...it's only a matter of time before the sexual tension becomes too much! Isabella indeed is a very "your bubble-space, my bubble-space" person, so yes, it's a bad idea to get in there! I think Jane yelling for the guy to put his hands up was music to Izzy's ears! Happy Days is amazing...seriously, best TV-couple ever is Joanie and Chachi. But I decided to play up how Frost was a Navy brat (Military term here...) so he didn't watch a ton of American shows. I think there are other things for Frankie and Izzy to do instead of watching TV ;D_**

* * *

><p><em>We don't have to like each other b<em>_ut it's sure fun to pretend_

_So let's shake hands and look across those party lines_

_You got your friends just like I've got mine_

_We might think a little differently_

_But we got a lot in common, you will see_

_We're just like you only prettier_

Miranda Lambert — Only Prettier

* * *

><p>Isabella drummed her fingers on her desk, humming along with the radio. The sound of the door opening caught her attention and she looked up to see who came in.<p>

"Good morning, Isabella," Frankie said. "You're in a good mood this morning."

"That's because it's a cool morning," Isabella explained. "It's amazing how someone's mood can lift when she hears her favorite song on the radio on the way to work."

"If only it was that easy for everyone else," he joked. "But I sense there's something else that completely shattered it."

"Why do you say that?" she asked, tilting her head in confusion.

"Because you're usually snarky and sarcastic, not happy and joyful. New Izzy frightens Frankie," he replied. She snorted and shook her head.

"Yeah, but you're actually right. My truck broke down, but it was luckily right outside of a mechanic's garage. So that was good," she told him. She smoothed out her heather gray work shirt before picking a piece of lint from her black jeans.

"Oh really?" he commented. "Which one?"

"Hold on, it's under my papers," she said, rifling her paperwork aside to hunt for the business card. "Gilberti and Sons."

When his face read horror, she raised her eyebrow. "Are they crappy mechanics? The guy seemed nice to me."

"No, Giovanni's a good mechanic, it's just..." he trailed off. "He gets a bit friendly with female customers."

She chuckled and placed the card on top of stack. "He hit on me twice and tried to loan me his Alpha," she said. "But I politely told him no and said that I would take a cab to work."

"Is that why I saw the Alpha parked outside of the precinct?" he asked, his eyes amused. She shrugged.

"He all but threw the keys at me and carried me over his shoulder to the car," she replied. "He's nice, but a bit pushy."

Frankie muttered something under his breath that sounded something suspiciously like "Yeah, he's also thicker than concrete."

When Jane walked in, her eyes were wide with horror. "What the hell is Giovanni's Alpha doing here?" she demanded. "Is he here?"

Isabella shook her head. "That's my fault, actually," she explained. "My truck broke down in front of his shop and I had to get to work before I was late."

"Aw man, she wasn't here when Giovanni had that huge crush on Maura," Jane said.

"Well, good thing I'm not going to date him then, right?" Isabella said. "He hit on me, but I turned him down."

"He'll keep at it," Frankie told her. "Until you cave."

"Yeah, then he'll tell you he wants to lick your face," Jane added. "He's weird."

"I'm still not dating him," Isabella replied, signing her name on the last piece of paper. "Honestly, the only thing we'd have in common is that we both have Italian blood in us and we know how to fix cars."

"He'll drag it on and wear you down," Jane singsonged. "But you're stubborn, you can take it." Her tone was a tad teasing, mostly condescending.

* * *

><p>"What the hell is she doing here?" Isabella demanded, pointing accusingly at Sheila Archer. The Vice detective who had made her life a living hell. "What's next, Benedict Arnold is going to skip around and sing "This Land Is Your Land"?"<p>

"You know her?" Jane asked, raising her eyebrow at the petite detective. Sheila Archer was a striking, tall blonde detective with shining green eyes. Green-Eyed Monster was Isabella's favorite nickname for her. If Isabella had done something to earn praise, Sheila would one-up her. There had been a grace period of a month after Isabella and Dante's divorce had been final before the snake sank her fangs in.

"She's a Vice cop from the NYPD," Isabella muttered. "God, what is she doing here? I hate her!"

"Made your life a living hell?" Frankie surmised.

"Since I was a uniform," she replied. "Any time I did something right, Sheila one-upped me. When I passed my CSI's exam with flying colors, she got a second-in-command job in the Vice squad. Like, the main Vice squad. She waited a whole month after my divorce was final before she jumped Danny."

"Well, Harper sure seems to like her," Jane commented, nodding to the Chief of Detectives.

"Because Archer sleeps her way up the ladder," Isabella growled. "She uses men like toys, then throws them away. She was born in the Upper East side and she bleeds blue."

That was when Sheila's glittering green eyes settled on the petite Queens-native. "Isabella Zuko, is that you?" she said breathlessly. Immediately, Isabella was crushed into the other woman's embrace. "It's so good to see you!"

"Sheila Archer," Isabella greeted her, nearly choking on the name. Words could not describe her utter disdain for her. "What brings you to Boston?"

A broad smile lit up Sheila's face as she looked down at her. "Oh, I'm the head of the Vice squad now," she replied proudly. "Oh, it'll be just like old times!"

"I highly doubt it," Isabella muttered under her breath. "Archer, this is Detective Jane Rizzoli and Detective Frankie Rizzoli."

Sheila excitedly shook their hands, her gaze lingering on Frankie a tad longer than necessary. "Oh, you're head of the Homicide department?" she asked. She, of course, knew the answer and had wanted to rub her promotion in Isabella's face.

Isabella bristled, her eyes narrowing to slits. "No, I'm not," she replied. "But I was recently promoted from Second Grade to First."

"Oh, I see," Sheila said, her green velvet eyes widening. "I mean, you've done so much in your career, I'm surprised you haven't been promoted already."

Isabella bit her tongue to hold back her retort. "Well, they don't look at that here," she explained. "I'm perfectly comfortable with this, I have no reason to climb the ladder and shoot the glass."

"Don't worry, someday you'll be successful," Sheila patted her shoulder in assurance. "By the way, Donnie says hello."

Isabella nearly hurled herself at the other woman, her eyes blazing with fury. "Yeah, then he went on back to his girlfriend, right?" she asked, knowing she had nailed Sheila straight into the heart. Ooh, it brought her immense pleasure seeing the other woman's eyes snap open and her mouth drop.

* * *

><p>"Honestly, if I were a woman, I would have bitch-slapped her," Frankie declared in the borrowed Alpha. He still felt uneasy at knowing the flirty mechanic had set his eyes on his partner, but who was he to judge?<p>

"There are times I would love to, but it wouldn't do me any good," Isabella sighed. "There's about a two-second rebound rate, then she's off doing some other pain-in-the-ass stunt."

"If it's any consolation, your record's a hell of a lot better than hers is," he offered.

"That's because my record's spotless because of my meticulous and relentless work ethic," she replied. "I've worked my ass off for everything I have, to prove I'm better than where I came from."

Now that she had mentioned it, he knew very little about his partner. He knew she came from a gang neighborhood in Queens, she had two brothers and two sister, she was Italian-Irish, she had been married once, and that she had been a CSI before transferring to Homicide. That was it.

"Hey, I know women like to hear this, too," he joked. "If it's also any consolation, you're way hotter than she is."


	21. No Love

**_A/N: I'm excited! I have wonderfully priced sparkling grape juice, good music...what more can a girl ask for? 8D By the way, I have to write this scene now before it drives me nuts! By the way, I know earlier on, I spelled Giovanni's car as 'Alpha' when it is actually 'Alfa'. From now on, it is written as 'Alfa'. _**

**_RaiN: Ha ha, yeah, I'll probably post it as a one-shot, seeing as I want to keep it to a 'T' rating...but yes, I'm with you on that! I heard my favorite song on the radio today and I was all happy. Glad I got your mind in the gutter lol! Giovanni was nice, but he was really thick! He didn't seem to grasp the whole "She's Just Not That Into You" concept. Sheila is indeed a bitch, and I can't wait to write how she might come between Izzy and Frankie..._**

* * *

><p><em>Spin me around, all around<br>__Oh feels like a lifetime  
><em>_I've been waiting  
><em>_One domino goes down then they all hit the ground  
><em>_Ain't no deliberating  
><em>_It all happens for a reason, right?  
><em>_Guess there's no need to fight it, right?  
><em>_'Cause one thing leads to another, leads to another, leads to another_

Ke$ha — Chain Reaction (This song inspired my other story 'Chain Reaction')

* * *

><p>"My truck won't be ready until this evening!" Isabella cheered from her desk as she spun her chair in a circle. "And all I had to do was play damsel in distress."<p>

"How so?" Frankie asked, looking up at her.

"Well, he said it wasn't going to be ready for a couple of days," she explained. "But I explained to him that I really needed my truck back because of all the errands I had to use on it. Since those errands also include Chachi, I had to throw him in there. Giovanni said he would have my truck ready by this evening."

"Hey, I guess blue eyes really do have their perks," he joked. She smiled to herself before she shook her head.

"You kidding? It's hard to get men to do what I want when they can't see me," she bantered back with a wink. "I can be quite charming and alluring when I want to be."

"Oh really?" he said. He turned to face her. "Prove it."

Isabella smirked. "With pleasure," she replied. After a moment, she tossed her pencil across the room and stood up. "Oh shoot! I dropped my pencil! Would you mind helping me look?" She looked up at him from her eyelashes and leaned a bit onto her hands. "I could really use some help."

For a moment, his eyes were wide. "For a second, I actually deliberated getting up," he said with an exhale. She chuckled.

"Please?" she asked, making her voice soft. She knew he knew she was bullshitting him, but it was fun to make him squirm. When he finally handed her her pencil, she cracked a wide smile. "See? Easy. My mother did teach me more than just manners."

* * *

><p>In the end, Frankie had decided to tag along for the ride to pick up Isabella's truck. Jane had asked to come along as well, since she had nowhere to be afterwards.<p>

"Moral support," Jane spoke up. "Trust me, you suck at saying no to people."

"I know, right?" Isabella agreed with a chuckle. "I mean, I get men under my spell, it's a curse."

"It's not that hard to get Giovanni interested in a girl," Frankie pointed out. "Seriously, he'd bang anything that walks with a wiggle."

"Walks with a wiggle?" Jane repeated. "You hang around Frost too much." Isabella snorted as they pulled into the garage.

"Well, we're here," she announced and pulled the seat forward. Frankie slid out and stretched his legs.

"I get to drive the truck," he said. She spun around to face him.

"The hell you are!" she retorted. "Nobody is allowed to drive my truck but me."

Frankie shook his head and walked with them into the garage.

"Hey yo, Frankie!" Giovanni's Bostonian accent rang out from the other side of the garage. When his eyes rested on Isabella and Jane, they glittered. "You girls look hot."

"Thanks," Isabella replied. "Where's my truck? I've missed the damn heap."

"It's no longer a heap," Giovanni told her. He gestured to the truck with the hood opened. "You're gonna love what I did to it."

A wide smile broke out on Isabella's face as girlish giddiness took her over. "I can't wait."

When Giovanni slammed down the hood, Isabella's excitement immediately vanished to horror. Because, instead of the truck's sleek black color, it had blue flames writhing from the hood and along the sides of it.

"My truck," she whimpered. The poor truck had plastic spinners on the wheels and the lift had been removed. "Where is my lift?"

"Hey, I did that for you, Blue Eyes," he informed her with a wink. "I figured it'd be easier for you to get in and out."

"I loved my lift," she whispered. Her eyes turned up to Frankie. "All I wanted fixed was the antifreeze line, water pump, thermostat, and brake pads."

"Giovanni, you didn't..." Jane stated, her eyes wide. Isabella's little whimpers continued as she looked at her truck.

"Hey, you don't have to thank me, Blue Eyes," Giovanni said with a wink. More unease in Frankie's belly as the other man used _his _nickname for Isabella. It was clear that the petite detective in question was a wreck.

"And if I don't like it?" she finally mustered out. "I mean, I could take it to another shop to fix the paint job. But could you put the lift back on?"

"Yeah, but it'll take me some time," Giovanni replied. "I'm off for dinner." The man didn't get the concept of "She's Just Not That Into You."

"I think you two should tell the truth," Jane spoke up. "How long did you think you could keep us all in the dark?"

Isabella tilted her head in confusion. "About what?"

"Your relationship," Jane replied slowly, drawing out each syllable. Immediately, Frankie caught his sister's drift. She was giving Isabella an out.

"Yes," Frankie said, stepping over to her. He slung his arm around Isabella's shoulders and pulled her a little closer. Her hand came onto his shoulder and a smile appeared on her face.

"Wait, you two are together?" Giovanni asked, clearly disappointed. "How long?"

"Four months," Isabella said at the same time Frankie had said six. The numbers were clearly the first ones to pop in their heads. "Gosh, it's been four but it feels like six."

* * *

><p>It was time to sell the 'relationship' big time. Impromptu improvisation hadn't been one of her biggest strong-suits in high school, something she hadn't had to do in a while.<p>

"We fought this morning," Frankie suddenly blurted. That would explain the awkwardness. Isabella patted her 'boyfriend's' shoulder with a smile.

"Yes, we certainly did," she agreed. "Niza ahorrar," she added in Spanish. [Nice save]

"What's that mean?" Giovanni asked. He still wasn't getting it.

"It means I love you in Italian," Isabella replied slowly. Of course, she had been speaking in Spanish, not her father's native tongue. She prayed like hell that Giovanni didn't know a lick of Italian.

"Then, you two should make up," Jane suggested. Isabella glared at the taller woman over her shoulder.

"Let's not do that here," she said pointedly. "We'll celebrate later on." She was feeling a bit awkward standing so intimately close to her partner, and his breath tickling her neck wasn't doing her any favors.

Her toes curled inside her black flats and she stared down at the floor.

"I can have your truck ready by next week," Giovanni said. A smile lit up her face as she met his dark eyes. "I'm really sorry I didn't ask you about adding that stuff."

"Hey, you thought it would make me happy," she assured him. "It's the thought that counts."

* * *

><p>"Do you even know how to speak Italian?" Frankie asked her. "You spoke Spanish."<p>

"I hoped you had caught onto that," she replied. "I speak Italian fluently, my father taught me when I was very young." Another tidbit he now knew about her. Come to think of it...he didn't even know her birthday.

They were alone as they walked towards the precinct. The early October air was chilly as they walked side-by-side.

"I've known you for a year and I feel like I don't know a damn thing about you," he admitted. The streetlights illuminated her face as he carefully read each emotion. Surprise and fear were the dominant emotions sketched onto her face.

"I don't talk about my family much because I'm not that close to them," she explained. "Because of what's happened in my past, I don't talk about it." With that, she merely shut her mouth. "The only person who knows is Flack, because he was there with me."

"I know about Diego," he said. She shook her head.

"It goes deeper than that," she dismissed. When she finally took a deep breath, she paused on the sidewalk. He turned to face her. "You wanna know, you can't breathe a word of it to anyone."

"Have I ever?" he pointed out. She chuckled and sighed again, her breath shaky.

"I was physically, emotionally, mentally, and verbally abused by my stepfather growing up," she said simply. "My mom married him when I was six, after she had gotten pregnant with my two younger siblings. Mitchell loved them, they were his. Evan, Levi, and I weren't, so he rejected us. It started out as emotional neglect, he would push us away if we did something. It got so bad that my brother Levi moved in with his and my dad and it was just me and Evan at home. I was about eleven or twelve when Mitch got physical, and anyone who stuck up for each other were the ones who suffered. And it got so bad that I had to start wearing foundation to school and lie about how I got the cuts and bruises. Evan had moved in with her dad by that time, so she had escaped from it."

The news shook him to the core as he looked at her. It explained some scars he had seen and her seemingly endless tolerance for pain.

"Basically, I wasn't worth anything. At eight years old, I couldn't look people in the eye anymore and I honestly believed I was the worst person in the world, because Mitch was a racist. When I was thirteen, CPS was called on my mom after I had come to school limping and my eye had swollen shut and I was placed with the Flacks for about a year. By then, Evan's dad had heard so much that he decided to take me in and away from my mom, since my dad couldn't. When I was fifteen, he became my legal guardian and tried to adopt me, but my mother wouldn't give up her rights to him."

"You know he was wrong," Frankie finally said. The fact that someone could be filled with such arrogant hate had fueled his horror into anger. Especially raise his hand against an innocent child.

"It took me a long time to believe that," she said. He saw a tear glistening on her cheek and she wiped it away quickly. It explained her almost-blind trust in Flack. He really had seen her through it all. "I don't trust people because of it. I still have each and every scar that Mitch ever put on me."

"Where is he now?" Frankie asked. She sighed, the cloud of air fogging in the still night.

"Sing Sing," she replied. "For domestic violence and assault on an officer." He had gone after her after she had graduated from the academy, clearly. Her body went rigid when he gripped her into a tight embrace.

"That shouldn't have happened to you," he informed her. She chuckled and her arms wrapped around his waist to return the embrace.

"I've come to terms with that long ago," she whispered.


	22. Walls

**_A/N: Good God, yesterday and today were so fucking long! But the good news is that I get tomorrow, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday off. I am so sorry that I did not update, I stayed at my sister's house last night e.e While I was able to watch Netflix, I was unable to write..._**

**_RaiN: I seriously love reading your reviews xD they always make me smile! And ha ha, I got your mind in the gutter ;D Can you imagine how many homeless minds there would be without it? I'll probably post the oneshot tomorrow. I think Frankie did want to hurt him, though! And yes, the moment's almost here...you needn't worry! _**

* * *

><p><em>So much, so young I've faced on my own<br>Walls I built up became my home_

_I catch my breath with just one beating heart  
>And I brace myself, please don't tear this apart<em>

_Suddenly, the moment's here  
>I embrace my fears<br>All that I have been carrying all these years  
>Do I risk it all? Come this far to just to fall, fall<em>

Christina Aguilera — Bound To You

* * *

><p>Letting him in had been risky and Isabella had the feeling she had shared too much. Frankie had been comforting to her, as if he could sense the massive step she had made to let yet another person in. Dante had been the only other person she had told about her past to. To her, letting someone in gave them the chance to destroy her. Her walls had been ten miles high and five miles thick, and no one ever penetrated her walls, she had to willingly let them in. It terrified her to know that someone knew this about her. For so long, her life had been about keeping up a facade, to keep up an image.<p>

It had been of the utmost importance to her that people saw her as the tough detective: someone who never let anything bother her. She knew she hid behind sarcasm to cover up the hurt she had received as a child, to lash out at people when they got too close to the walls. The walls guarded her heart and her subconscious was the beast that reared its ugly head to ward off intruders. She was a lone wolf. Isabella Reagan Pacino-Zuko didn't want anybody, and she didn't need anyone. She had long since learned that she couldn't rely on anyone to rescue her. The one she had thought she could go to for anything had stepped back and let the hurt rain down. Her own mother had let this happen to her. Anyone she thought she could rely on had ultimately stabbed her in the back.

Her mother, her father, her sisters, and her brothers had all let her down in the most major of ways. When she needed someone to reach out to, they had all left her in the dark. Guidance counselors had offered to help her, but they had soon given up. Isabella was what had been called "a troubled and broken child." Impossible to help. She was self-destructive in that manner. Any time she had let herself get close to someone, she had to get away. She had a lot of self-forgiveness to do before she placed that implicit trust in someone.

"Are you alright, Isabella?" Maura's voice broke through her thoughts. The petite detective let out a yelp as she was startled. Isabella spun on her heel and clutched her heart in her hand, feeling its unsteady rhythm.

"God, Maura, you scared the hell outta me," she uttered, her breath coming out in ragged gasps. Her hand came to rake through her dark hair as she tried to lower her heart rate.

"I didn't mean to," Maura apologized. "I am sorry."

"Naw, don't worry about it," Isabella assured her. She closed her eyes tightly and breathed through her nose, something she had found had helped in the past. "I was just deep in thought." The statement was true, but she gave no elaboration on the nature of her thoughts.

"I'm heading out, Jane needed a lift home," Maura explained. "I saw you, and I figured I'd say goodnight."

Isabella glanced at the clock and her eyes widened when she looked at it. Three am. "Yeah, good idea."

* * *

><p>"Seriously, that was how it went down," Isabella stated. "I'd come home and get the third degree from Manny, then his wife. Sandy would do the 'really's'. 'Where were you <em>really?' <em>'Who were you _really _with?' 'How does the CD player _really _work?'"

Frankie had to laugh at that. Isabella's facial expressions had been hilarious. She had raised her eyebrow, turned her face, and held onto her chin, her expression very serious.

"When's your birthday?" he asked. She shrugged.

"Tomorrow," she replied with a chuckle. "I don't really advertise it." They were sitting on the floor of her living room, her Rottweiler sprawled on the couch.

"Same with Jane," he said. "She hates her birthday."

"It's not that I hate my birthday, I just...I don't like being the center of attention, you know?" she said, shrugging. "Too many other things to do." They leaned their backs against the couch, their legs sprawled out next to each other. He had finally gotten bold, his hand intertwined with hers.

"I almost got married once," he found himself saying. She had shared something big in her life, it was only fair that he did the same. He hadn't spared Theresa a thought in two years, or how she had used her daughter to get him back. Lily hadn't turned out to be his, so it made Theresa look bad.

"Not all it's cracked up to be, right?" Isabella said. He knew she still talked to her ex-husband. They were very good friends, but that was all they were.

"No, there were too many lies," he explained. "I bought a car with her and she took off in it. Came back about two years ago with a little girl, telling me she was mine."

"And she wasn't, was she?" she murmured. Frankie shook his head. "And she kept the car?" He nodded. "Bitch."

"Hey, it was just a Camry," he said. "Not like it was a Ferrari."

"Ew, Toyotas," she said. He looked down and saw her nose crinkled in distaste.

"You drive a Toyota," he pointed out. "The same 'heap' Giovanni's fixin'."

"Not like I drive it by choice," she snorted, rolling her eyes. "I'm a Chevy girl through and through."

"Then, why did you buy your Tundra?" Frankie asked. Isabella huffed.

"I didn't," she replied. "My ex-husband did, about a year before we divorced. He told me to keep it."

"Ah, the perks of being an agent's wife, right?" he said. She shoved his arm playfully.

"Don't be rude," she chided. "Danny treated me really well. I don't like being taken care of, but he got me the truck anyways. I had told him in passing that I loved trucks, but they weren't practical for the city. He surprised me on our anniversary with one. When we got divorced, he said he wanted me to keep it." He could see a sense of relaxation in his partner, her pretty face seemingly smoother. Her baby blue eyes seemed even calmer, rather than the troubled storms that raged. Frankie glanced at their joined hands and his eyes met hers.

"You seem more relaxed now," he commented. She shrugged, her thumb caressing his knuckles. Her touch felt reassuring, as if she could sense the tension in him.

"I don't usually let my guard down," she admitted. "You try anything, I'll put you in the ground." Her eyes had a teasing glint in them as she smiled. "But you know I'm kidding."

"See? Everyone lets their guard down sometimes," he pointed out. "It's refreshing to see another side of you."

A smile lit up her pretty features, showcasing slightly crooked lower teeth. "I am one who wears many hats," she replied. "Cop, sister, aunt, daughter, partner...the list goes on."

"You shouldn't have to convince yourself to relax," he said.

"I know, it's not healthy," she replied. "It's something I'm used to, though."

"You know I'm one of the last people who would ever want to hurt you," he said. He could see her vulnerability show as her gaze met his.

"That's the problem," she sighed. "Anything that seems to good to be true often is. Good friends, a good job..."

God, the feel of Isabella's body so close to his bogged his conscience until he saw those baby blue orbs bear into his. "Thanks for listening," she finally said.

He could test the boundaries...

Her lips came to touch his cheek the same time his face turned around to say something. Their lips met in a surprising, impromptu kiss.

"God, I did not mean for that to happen," he said. Her eyes were wide, her lips slightly parted.

"Me either," she finally uttered. He bent forward to kiss her again, this time drawing it out. Her body became rigid for a split second before relaxing. This felt right as their lips moved against each other's.


	23. Shocks and Surprises

**_A/N: 8D I missed writing...by the way, 4th of July is by Joanna Pacitti (who I have in my head as Isabella) I do not in any way own that song, nor do I own the rights. For the sake of the fact that the incredibly talented Joanna is who I picture as Isabella Zuko, I am saying that Isabella wrote it. I say it again, I DO NOT OWN JOANNA PACITTI OR ANY OF HER MUSIC. I have some of her songs that I bought legitimately on iTunes, but that is it._**

**_RaiN: I know, right? I was so relieved! The oneshot will be rewritten and posted tomorrow (I have it on good faith that I am going absolutely NOWHERE tomorrow!) so you'll be reading some (hopefully) good stuff. I decided to rewrite it and give it a new theme, because it had a chapter-feel not a oneshot feel. It popped into my head when I was listening to music and trying to get my niece to sleep lol. I figured it was time that Izzy trusted Frankie, because it's clear he's not going anywhere! I squealed when I wrote that, it was about six in the morning. I'm glad I made you fall in love with these characters, I could just see it going down in my head and my facial expression is closely equivalent to "8D" I couldn't figure out how to do it and I wanted to keep it as cliche-free as possible, so I decided to make it 'accidental'. Glad to see it worked out! It's also known as 'Rizzuko', since Isabella kept her married name when she got divorced. If she went back to 'Pacino', it would be 'Rizzcino' _**

* * *

><p><em>So baby, yes, I know what I am<em>

_And no, I don't give a damn_

_And you'll be loving it_

_Some days I'm a super bitch_

_Up to my old tricks, but it wont last forever_

_Next day I'm your super girl_

_Out to save the world, and it keeps getting better_

Christina Aguilera — Keeps Gettin' Better

* * *

><p>"Victim's name is Patricia Morris, she's fifty-nine years old," Jennifer said, pulling out her memo pad. Isabella tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear as she inspected the body from her crouched position. The victim appeared older, with silvering hair, her body sprawled out. Patricia Morris sounded and looked familiar...<p>

"She's a singing teacher." That was why her name was familiar. She was one of the biggest vocal coaches in the musical industry.

"Vocal coach," Isabella corrected, standing up. She brushed off the dirt from her black trousers and smoothed out the front of her loose-fitting baby-blue blouse. "Yeah, I've heard of her. She hand-picks her clients, only the ones she deems with the greatest potential. But the ones she picks...they always shine the brightest."

"You sound like you speak from experience," Maura commented as she bent down next to the body. Isabella shrugged. A while back, she had been given the honor of an audition, but she hadn't been very interested. Singing had been something to relax her, she hadn't been serious about pursuing a career.

"I never met her personally," she replied with a wave of her hand. "Friends of mine have, and they say she's a real ice queen. You don't get the kind of rep Morris had without stompin' on some toes and makin' some enemies."

"Who were her biggest competitors?" Jane asked. Isabella frowned for a moment, twisting her mouth in thought.

"Sal Rossi was probably her biggest rival," she replied. "But only in the public eye."

"How much do you know about this stuff?" Jane asked, her gaze raising to meet Isabella's.

"I know quite a bit," the petite detective admitted. She fidgeted with the hem of her blouse and bit her lip. "Let's just say that if I never became a cop, you guys might know my name in a different manner."

"So, besides obvious reasons, why would someone want to kill her?" Isabella heard Frankie ask. She looked over her shoulder and gave him a quick smile of greeting.

"Well, Patricia Morris was also a songwriter and a composer. For someone to get their hands on her music, it gives them an edge. It'd take them straight to the top," she replied. Her gaze rested on a Bechstein grand concert piano. Its black paint shone under the light of the chandelier, its keys immaculately cleaned. Isabella knew from experience that a Bechstein piano was high-end, very expensive. After pressing down on a key with a gloved finger, its note sang into the air.

"It's been recently tuned," she commented. Her gaze lifted from the instrument, a flood of admiration coursing through her veins. She did miss being a performer. Her mother had gotten her into piano as a young child, and Isabella had played from the time she was in preschool to the time she had graduated high school. After she had been offered a scholarship to the prestigious St. Augustine's Academy, she had been trained in song.

"You know a lot about this, don't you?" Maura commented, clearly in surprise. A smirk crossed Isabella's features as she looked at her friend.

"What, is that so surprising?" she said, raising her eyebrow.

"It just doesn't seem...your style," Maura replied, clearly groping for words.

"Piano's been pounded into my head since I was a toddler," Isabella explained. "My mom used to be a piano teacher, so she thought she'd pound it into mine, Evan's, and Teagan's heads until we could play every composition by Beethoven, Bach, Mozart, Tchaikovsky..."

Her gaze fell on the sheet music and her lips parted in surprise. Laying face-out for the world to see, was Isabella's composition sophomore year of high school. A poem she had written in seventh grade, later converted into a song. '4th of July'.

"What the hell?" she uttered, holding up the sheet music in complete shock. Her baby-blue eyes were frozen open as they read the tiny italic words under the composition title. _By Isabella Reagan Pacino. _The bitch hadn't even had the gall to change the name on the piece. It was stolen property, used without permission. How had she even gotten it?

"What is it?" Isabella barely heard Frankie's voice as the shock gave way to anger. Wordlessly, she thrust the papers into his hands. Her jaw clenched as she tried to calm down. '4th of July' had been an intensely personal project that had taken her months to perfect. The fact that someone had stolen something that belonged to her had angered her to no end.

* * *

><p>"Start from the beginning," Korsak encouraged her. "How do you know Patricia Morris?"<p>

It felt as though Isabella were in interrogation as every eye remained fixed on her.

"When I was in seventh grade, I wrote a poem as a challenge with the theme 'Independence Day'," she explained with a sigh. "And I turned it into a song when I was a sophomore, to audition for a scholarship to a really high-class academy in Manhattan. It took me months to rewrite it, compose the music on my mom's piano, get the lyrics exactly right, and perform it to its potential. Patricia Morris was ridiculously expensive, and she only hand-picked her clients. Sal Rossi was my vocal coach, but Patricia wanted me on her team. Sal was in the business for the love and passion of music. Patricia was in it for the fame, royalties, and glory. I didn't want to have my career in the hands of someone like that."

"Had you met her at all?" Jane asked. Isabella shrugged.

"Not in person," she replied. "Mostly on the phone, when she tried to have me switch coaches." She had started to become a new person, but now the old bitchy Isabella was back with a vengeance. When she flipped open the pages, her fingers trailed over the notes. "I wrote this entire song, I composed it, and I performed. This was an intensely personal project for me, because it could impact my future. It took me months to get it just right."

"How do you think she got a hold of the song?" Frankie asked. She looked up at him and shrugged again. Shrugging, nodding, shaking her head, and sighing were her main gestures today, it seemed.

"I have no earthly idea," she replied. "But I am calling the lawyer my old voice coach had to copyright the song and legally sign all rights of the song to my mother. When I turned eighteen, that song became mine by law."


	24. Of Pianos and Birthdays

**_A/N: Well, a word to the ones who lurk this story and my favoriters and my alerters...and my reviewer xD: I will not be updating any of my stuff until I get settled into my OTHER sister's house, starting next week. Then, after that, like...Halloween on, I will not be updating for quite some time. I don't know how long, but you'll know when you see my stuff. I'm currently in the process of moving (e.e), so my desktop will be packed away and I will not have any internet connection to write with._**

**_RaiN: I know, it took me so long to think of something to make it into something good! And thank you! That just made my day lol. Rizzuko has a better ring to it than Rizzcino lol. Keep in mind, Izzy was a CSI before she became a homicide detective ;D, but I'm glad you like it when she gets all intelligent! No drama between Frankie and Izzy yet, they're still very new in their relationship! I think they'll keep it very hidden, due to the no-frat policy...but when they tell people, I think Jane will be the first. I can't wait to see the episode with Samantha Flack, she's such a good character. I wish they'd show her more often! _**

* * *

><p><em>I don't know but<em>

_I think I may be falling for you_

_Dropping so quickly_

_Maybe I should keep this to myself_

_Wait until I know you better_

Colbie Callait — Falling For You

* * *

><p>Knowing Frankie was there for her had made everything a lot easier. Neither of them had spoken about the kisses they had shared on the floor of her living room, or how things had almost escalated. His touch had been reassuring, his kisses gentle and submissive. The fact he wasn't going to force himself on her, that she was going to make the decisions had ultimately caused Isabella's respect for him to grow. He wasn't like any other man she had ever known.<p>

"So, I guess your birthday turned out to be a bust," Jane's voice cut through her thoughts. Isabella's head snapped up and she whirled around in her chair to face her.

"How did you-" she started to ask, but his name popped into her thoughts. Frankie. "Damn him! I'm gonna make sure he rots in hell for this."

"I don't know who you think told me, but I looked at your file to see what other interesting information you might be withholding. Your birthday was right on there," Jane explained, her eyebrow raised in confusion. Oh. Wait...

Jane was high enough in rank to access every part of Isabella's file. Her school records, her CI records, her hospital records...

And not just the ones from when she had attacked on the job. The ones when Manny and the Flacks had taken her to hospital after she had gotten knocked around by Mitch were on her record as well.

"Relax," Jane told her. "Your record's spotless." Clearly gauging the young woman's shocked reaction as something bad. It was indeed something bad.

It wasn't her record she was worried about. Jane's words haunted her.

_I looked at your file..._

_Other interesting formation you might be withholding._

Jane knew about the abuse Isabella had suffered as a child.

* * *

><p>"What's the best piano you've ever played?" Evangeline asked Isabella. Isabella knew her sister had hated the piano growing up and had quit lessons as soon as her mother had let her. Same with Teagan.<p>

"It depends," she replied. "Are you referring to an upright or a grand?"

"Either one," Evangeline said, leaning against Isabella's desk. Her dark brown eyes burned down into Isabella's blues and she could almost read her sister's mind.

"Grand, definitely Walters. Upright, Yamaha," Isabella replied. "Let me guess; Ava wants to learn?" Evangeline nodded.

"Honestly, whatever Mom taught me has been burned out of my memory. You soaked it all in," she pointed out. A smile spread across Isabella's face as the thought of her shy, introverted autistic niece came into her mind. The fact that Ava wanted to give music a try caused her heart to swell.

"I would love to teach her to play," she replied softly. "I'll see if I can teach her once a week for a couple of hours or something. You know she'll want to hear us both play." She was referring to Pachelbel Canon in D major on the piano, something their mother had taught them both at a young age.

"If I heard you play some more, I might remember how to play it," Evangeline replied. "You were always the one who was so passionate about the piano." Isabella stacked the remaining paperwork on her desk and slid it into her outbox.

"It was my life," she admitted. "It was always so soothing to me, but I haven't played in years." But it was something she would never forget. The feel of the smooth wood under her fingers as she stroked each singing key into perfection. Her first recital song had been Pachelbel Canon in D major when she was eight years old.

"Piano prodigy," her sister bantered lightly. "I'd watch Mom play, but she didn't have the heart you did. You could have really made it." Isabella knew she didn't mean anything rude by the statement, it was true. Nothing had come as naturally to her as instruments and languages had.

"Piano was my passion, but if I had become a professional pianist, I would have grown to hate it. That's the one thing I hoped to have never grown out of," she pointed out. When a smile curved across Evangeline's face, a ball of unease sat in her stomach. "You did something stupid," she stated.

"It's a good thing you like Yamaha pianos," Evangeline finally said. "Because I would have to take back the one me, Teagan, Ian, Levi, Mom, Daddy, and your dad all pitched into buy you for your birthday." Isabella's jaw dropped.

"You bought me a frickin' piano?" she gasped. Evangeline nodded, her smile growing. "We all chipped in and bought you a piano. Currently, it's being set up in your house, you're gonna love it." Wait, Isabella's dad had chipped in to buy her a piano?

"I don't know what to say," she said. Her sister nudged her.

"You could say thanks," she replied. "And that you'll spend time with Teagan, Ian, and Levi when they get here." Isabella's eyes widened.

"Why are they coming? It's only my thirty-second birthday. There's no big milestone," she pointed out.

"Teagan's already here," Evangeline said quietly. "Currently, she's getting the piano set up at your house. She wants all of us to go out to dinner for some seafood." Isabella smiled at the thought of her younger sister in Boston. She had talked to her a little over a week ago.

"I'm gonna go get some coffee," she said. Evangeline checked her watch.

"I gotta go pick up James and Ava from Clementine Hill," she said. Clementine Hill Elementary was a school with staff specifically trained to teach children with special needs. Ava still had issues with introversion and her incredible shyness, difficulties from her autism. Once Ava became accustomed to someone, she became a little chatterbox. But when she was scared or nervous, she would sit down on the floor and rock back and forth.

"Tell them I said I love them and tell Ava I would be happy to teach her," Isabella told her sister. She stood up from her chair and stretched her lithe body. "But I'll see you later."

* * *

><p>Isabella fixed her high ponytail as she walked down the hall towards the cafe. She felt her heartbeat quicken as she stood next to the air-pots of coffee, ready to get a Styrofoam cup. Frankie stood next to it, clearly doing the same thing.<p>

"Happy birthday," he muttered. She looked up and smiled to herself.

"Yeah, you don't have to use a low voice anymore," she told him. "Everyone now knows it's my birthday." She had received about six birthday wishes from everyone, not including her family.

"I swear, I didn't tell anyone," he swore, his eyes on hers. "Seriously."

"It's okay," she said with a shrug. "Jane read my file and told everyone. But I do owe you an apology. When I thought you told her, I told her I was going to make sure you rotted in hell for it."

A smirk crossed his features and he shook his head. "I'm waitin' on that apology, Blue Eyes," he told her. She rolled her eyes and emptied three packets of Sugar in the Raw, stirring it with a swizzle stick. The hazelnut coffee creamer was empty, which saddened her a little.

"Fine, I'm sorry I said I was going to make you rot in hell for revealing my birthday," she said, tossing the sugar wrappers into the trashcan. She slid into one of the high chairs, her feet dangling from its height. Her ballet flat swung from her toes as she took a sip of her coffee.

"Hey, Ma," Frankie greeted Angela as she walked by. She reached up and kissed her son's cheek before her eyes rested on Isabella.

"Hey, Ms. R," Isabella greeted her. A motherly smile lit up the other woman's face as she set down a bagel.

"Happy birthday, sweetie," she told her with a hug. Isabella chuckled.

"Thanks," she replied. With a glare in Jane's general direction, she shrugged. "Good news travels fast."

"I just hope you get to spend it with people you care about." A pointed stare at Frankie. "Shouldn't she spend her special day with people she cares about?" If there was anything Angela Rizzoli wasn't, it was subtle. There was a clear double meaning to her words.

"I never said she shouldn't, Ma," he replied.

"Actually, my brothers are on their way into town and my other sister is currently waiting on a piano delivery to my house," Isabella spoke up. "Yeah, my family chipped in and bought me a piano."

"You know, I always tried to get Jane interested in piano when she was a little girl, but she never liked it," Angela said with a shake of her head.

"That's because piano is lame," Frankie replied. Isabella looked at him in shock, her eyes widened in hurt.

"Playing piano is one of my favorite things to do," she informed him. "I've been playing since I was three."

It was clear he was trying to find the joke in her words, because his eyes widened in horror as he registered her words.

"I...I just thought you knew music and stuff," he said. "I had no idea...God, I'm such a jerk."

"I've implied about my piano-playing abilities," she said, still slightly stung about the crack about pianos.

"I meant...it was lame to her," he tried to change his words. She raised her eyebrow, arching it.

"Frankie, I'm not that thin-skinned," she reminded him. "Trust me, you're not the first person to make jokes about it."


	25. The Moment of Truth

**_A/N: Countdown to eventual move...towards the end of the month e.e By the way, this chapter will have a soft 'M' rating...who can guess why? ;D_**

**_RaiN: I'll definitely make up for it, I swear! Would some more of those oneshots help, perhaps? ;D But yes, that would be my expression too: "You bought me a frickin' piano?" No matter how short the review, you know I appreciate it! Isn't it weird when your friends hit on you? My guy friends do that too xD but just recently, I came up with a comeback. This one friend always asks me: "Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?" I now tell him: "Do you think it'll burn? You know, when you go to hell?"_**

* * *

><p><em>That girl, like something off a poster<em>

_That girl is a dime, they say_

_That girl is the gun to my holster_

_Well, she's running through my mind all day_

Iyaz — Replay

* * *

><p>Isabella smoothed out her dress, admiring its shape against her lithe body. It hugged and emphasized every contour, the hem falling just above her knee. It was a baby blue one-shouldered cocktail dress with a ruffle down the front. It was appropriate and gave her an edge of mystery. She kept her makeup simple, yet smoldering, silver eyeshadow gracing her lids, black liquid eyeliner swept across to the lash-line. Gunmetal gray kohl eyeliner smudged on the lower lid, her long eyelashes swept with a coat of mascara and curled, the length nearly touching her eyebrows. She slid her feet into a pair of silver heels, buckling the delicate clasp.<p>

"Here, let me do your hair," Teagan requested, clearly wanting something to do. Isabella looked over her shoulder at her younger sister. Teagan and Isabella looked like twins, with Isabella's exception at being the older sibling and slightly shorter by an inch. Her younger sister had the same raven hair and big, baby blue eyes. Yet, her face was rounder than Isabella's with a more angelic edge.

"Fine," she agreed. Teagan pulled the chair out for Isabella to sit down on in the bathroom as she let out an excited squeal. Moulin Rouge's 'Lady Marmalade' played over the iPod speakers as the young woman pulled out curling appliances and styling tools. She was currently in grad school at Chelsea University, studying to be a lab technician.

"So, how do you like working in Boston? It's got a bit more of a suburb feel to it than New York does," Teagan asked as she wrapped a lock of Isabella's thick, wavy hair into a curling iron.

"I enjoy it," Isabella replied. "The police force here is full of really good people." In the reflection of the mirror, she saw her sister's face turn knowing.

"Your partner seems nice," she commented. Her sister, the queen of subtlety. "He's cute, too."

"How did I know that he would somehow come up in a conversational topic?" Isabella muttered. "He's a nice guy and a good cop."

No-fraternization policies were more than just a good idea; it made everything easier. After a brief relationship with Officer Juan Martinez, Isabella had discovered that the job wasn't a great place to find someone. Ultimately, it came down to rank. Something she had to pull every time there was an issue. Officers and detectives were not a good match, no matter how strong the chemistry had been between them. Being a cop, relationships were also destroyed more often than not.

"Would you quit being so unbelievably in your thirties? You know he's cute!" Teagan scoffed, rolling her baby blue eyes as she brushed out the new curls in her older sister's hair.

"Well, in the cop world, it boils down to what kind of person you are," Isabella pointed out. "I live and work in the cop world. What kind of man Frankie is is more important than how cute he is."

"Sensible Izzy frightens Teagan," Teagan joked lightly. She sprayed hairspray in her hair and unplugged the curling iron. Isabella opened the drawer attached to the sink and pulled out her favorite tube of lipstick. It was a pink shade that enhanced the natural shade of her lips, giving it a subtle sheen to them. She walked out of the bathroom and saw Teagan zipping up a scarlet red dress. It was Mandarin-style, ending at the knees. She paired the ensemble with a pair of black stilettos, giving the look a sexy edge.

"We're ready to tear up Boston," Teagan announced.

* * *

><p>As Isabella found her way home, she fumbled for her keys. After the night she had had, she could do with a glass of wine.<p>

Damn, she'd been hanging around with Maura too much. Wine was definitely not Isabella's alcohol of choice. Beer or whiskey was closer to the mark. Very, very rarely did she ever let herself drink wine, let alone champagne or Chardonnay. Scotch or tequila were the strongest she allowed herself.

"I am losing my blue collar edge," she muttered under her breath. The entire dinner had consisted of teasing at Evangeline's and Isabella's careers of choice. Or how Teagan was falling under Isabella's 'lab rat' influence. Her tongue ring rubbed against the roof of her mouth as she slid her hand around her black purse, trying to find her keys. Proverbially, her ears pricked at the sound of rustling in the bushes. Her eyes narrowed as she took a step backwards, as her instincts as a cop kicked in. When a stray cat raced across the lawn, Isabella had to laugh at herself.

"Well, that was highly anticlimactic," she said after finally grabbing her keys out of her purse and sliding it into the lock. When she heard Chachi announcing her arrival, she kicked off her shoes. Tomorrow, she would clean her house, but tonight, she wanted to get into her pajamas and sit on her couch. Possibly put in a guilty pleasure DVD and sit down with a soda and popcorn.

The thought made her smile as she slid her dress back onto its hanger and hung it up in her closet. Isabella opened her drawers, hunting for something to wear. She laid out a short dark emerald green silk and black lace chemise, something she rarely wore nowadays. If there was one thing Isabella had massive pride in, it was her underwear drawer. Full of bras of all kinds, both lingerie and girly, and panties of every color. And the occasional chemise or camisole...

She heard someone knock on the door and she found a black kimono to wrap around herself as she padded across the dark cherry hardwoods.

* * *

><p>Why the hell had he come over to her house? Her family might be there, and she had made it abundantly clear that Evangeline was the only sibling she would ever introduce to anyone at work. Her door opened and her petite body was revealed, clad in a black silk robe. Her dark hair hung in curls over her shoulders and she looked up at him with her wide baby blue eyes.<p>

_Get over your little crush, Rizzoli, she's technically your boss. Even if she's smoking hot and has a smile that does a bit more than make your day, _he berated himself. _When it comes to leagues, she's MLB and you're Pee-Wee. _

Yet he couldn't tear his eyes away from her. And the little black robe did nothing for him either. It hit mid-thigh, showcasing her toned legs.

"I'm sorry to show up like this," he said. "I shouldn't have come. Your family's probably over." She arched her eyebrow, amusement tinting her eyes.

_Never have I ever seen her wear eyeliner. I really shouldn't have come, now I want to kiss her again! _

"Nah, they're staying at Evan's," she replied. "You know you don't have to call." Her Queens accent sounded so tough, but he knew his attraction to his partner came from what he knew of her. How her toughness was only her image, how it came from life experience, rather than growing up in the harshness Glendale.

He had written off every time he had seen her in a dress, but he had never seen her in something like this. Especially when he had a feeling she was wearing something a little daring under that robe. Inwardly, he shivered at the thought of removing it from her lithe body.

"Still, I shouldn't have dropped in on you like this," he finally managed to say. She shook her head and poked outside. He could see the goosebumps broken out on her legs as she gestured him inside. _Quit staring at her legs, quit staring at her legs_, he chided himself. "You look busy."

"Pfft, yeah right," she scoffed. "I was gonna flop on the couch in my pajamas and watch some chick flick about the power of women's rights." He knew she hated movies like that.

"Why not watch 'Happy Days'?" he teased her. She rolled her eyes again and planted her hands on her hips.

"Well, you at least owe me an explanation for coming over," she informed him. She was teasing, of course.

"To be honest, I sort of wanted to talk to you," he said. "About last night." Her eyes widened slightly and she rubbed the back of her neck.

"Oh." Her voice was light with surprise. She shifted her weight from foot to foot as she fidgeted with the ties of her robe. "Look, I let myself get vulnerable..."

"It may not be the best idea for us to get involved," he said. She nodded, her eyes on the floor. God, he wanted this woman so badly...

"It won't happen again," she confirmed. "Things got tense and we gave in to the heat of a moment that never should have happened." He couldn't help but feel a little saddened at her words and he saw her face soften.

"Look, usually when the girl says "it's not you, it's me", she doesn't mean it. When I say it's not you, it's me, I really mean it," she told him. "I'm a self-destructive, broken, damaged, lone wolf with walls ten miles high and five miles thick. Anyone I've ever trusted has always given me a reason not to."

"I know," he replied. He could see fear in her eyes. She really was scared of being close to anyone, but she needed him as much as he needed her. "But I'm not gonna lie here. I'm sick of hiding behind the badge." The moment of truth.

"Hiding behind the badge?" she echoed, tilting her head. Those soft ringlets fell from her shoulders and it took every scrap of self-control to not kiss her right then.

"Iz, I came over here to tell you how I felt," he finally said.

* * *

><p>Isabella was nailed to her spot as her eyes widened. He felt something for her? Better to ask than to assume...<p>

"What is it that you feel?" she asked. She dreaded the answer, but she wanted to know. What was it about her that drew him in?

"You're probably the smartest woman I know," he informed her. "It doesn't take a detective to figure out what I'm trying to say here." Frankie wasn't stringing her along.

"You like me," she stated. He nodded, his face reddening a little. Even after everything he knew, he still liked her?

"I have no idea when it started, but all I know is that now, I can't take my mind off of you," he said. His slight blush deepened, which she had to admit was cute. She took a step closer to him, meeting his doe-brown eyes with her cautious gaze.

"I'm a mess," she reminded him. "A mental, emotional mess with major family issues." He took a step closer to her, his hand brushing up under her jaw to tilt her head.

"I'm still here, aren't I?" he said. "We need each other in a lot of ways." The minute his lips touched hers, she stretched onto her toes to deepen the kiss. His hand wound into her dark hair, a groan emitting from his throat.

She held onto his work shirt in her hands, exploring the planes of his broad chest. His breath mingled with hers, hot and minty. Not that he wasn't exploring as well...

His free hand smoothed over the silk of her robe on her back, before he pulled her closer. All five senses were filled with the sensation of having this man practically on her. She couldn't feel anything but his touch, couldn't hear anything but the sound of his pants, she couldn't taste anything that wasn't him, nor smell. Her back collided with the wall and she arched into him. His tongue traced the bottom of her lip, enticing her to open her mouth. She let him in and their tongues slid together, fighting for dominance. The tip of his tongue grazed her piercing and he groaned.

"That's just not fair," he muttered between kisses. She let out a chuckle and finally moved him to the couch. His hands slid up her sides as they came to rest on the tie of the robe. Silently asking permission to remove it.

Isabella fumbled with the tie of the robe as she slid it off. He was getting turned on, she could feel it as she ground her hips against his.

"Good God, Iz," he said, taking in the chemise. He rested his hands on her thighs, causing a shiver to run down her spine. Something she would never admit aloud, but she loved it when someone touched her thighs. Or her neck. Or her ribcage or collarbone. "No matter what anyone says, you're so beautiful." He tilted her face forward to stare into her eyes.

"You ain't half-bad yourself," she replied, her voice low and husky with her desire. "But we'd better take this somewhere else, or else I'm gonna have to wash this cover." With those words, he wound his hands into hers and she led him down the hall...


	26. I Will

**_A/N: Such a busy day...later on this week, I will not be writing for a few days. On the twelfth, I am going to a place with Internet. Then, I will update! Until then, this will eventually go on temporary hold. As will the rest of my stories...once again, I own absolutely none of Joanna Pacitti's music, besides what I bought on iTunes. Then I just bought the songs, not the rights. All the credit goes to their rightful owners!_**

**_RaiN: Ha ha, yes, I love writing Teagan. She's so innocent. But yes, Frankie's pretty cute...Izzy really is a mess, but she's trying to get her shit together. I've got a oneshot that is going to be based on this called 'For the First Time'. Hope you enjoy it!_**

* * *

><p><em>If ever your day is done<em>

_You still feel you need someone to hold you_

_I will_

_If you ever need to talk to somebody_

_Who really knows you, I will_

Jimmy Wayne — I Will

* * *

><p>"She talks to someone named Matt┤éa Rodriguez quite a bit. We looked into it, and she's that famous singer," Frost said. "Apparently, she's Patricia Morris's greatest achievement."<p>

"After Patricia got a hold of her, she became an arrogant bitch on an ego trip," Isabella muttered. Mattéa had been her best friend in high school, one of the few students who had let her forget for just a little bit that she was a 'scholarship student'. After she had joined up with Patricia Morris, it was as if Mandy had deemed herself 'too cool' to hang out with her.

"You knew Mattéa Rodriguez?" Surprised murmurs came around the room. Isabella shrugged, brushing lint and crumbs off of her blue skinny jeans.

"Yeah, we went to high school together," she replied. "Had a few classes." She purposely left the part of their friendship, for fear of sounding too high and mighty. "She was a really nice person."

_Then, Patricia made her shun me after I decided to work with Sal Rossi, _she thought bitterly. In a tyrannic fit, Patricia had instigated a sing-off between Sal's greatest achievement and her own. They had pitted Isabella and Mattie against each other, ultimately destroying their friendship.

"Tabloids are all over Mattéa's career. According to this, she is currently on hiatus after extensively being on drugs," Frankie called from his computer. Isabella shook her head in sadness. Poor Mattie...

"Twitter puts her in Boston the day of the murder," Jane said. "Let's see if we can track her down."

* * *

><p>Isabella took a deep breath and sat down at the piano in the evidence. Something was missing from the piano and it was up to Isabella to find out what it was. A trap in it, that a certain composition unlocked.<p>

"Try Beethoven," Frankie suggested. Isabella raised her eyebrow at her.

"You do know he is one of the greatest composers of all time. You'll have to be a bit more specific. Besides, I'd have to do one of his more complicated pieces, Patricia's very smart and a very accomplished pianist," she replied. After flipping through some of the pages, she settled for Pachelbel Canon in D Major. The same composition she had performed when she was young.

To warm up, she cracked her knuckles and stretched out her arms and shoulders. The playing began, gentle at first as she focused on the sheet music. As the tune came to her, the playing progressed louder, the sound singing in the air. God, she had missed this...the feel of the wood under her fingers as she tapped each key in collaboration with the composer. The peace she had felt as she played the piano. Her smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she felt his gaze on her.

"That's not it," he announced. She looked up at him and raised her eyebrow.

"Let's see what else we can find," she suggested, getting up from the bench and checking under. Nope. Pachelbel Canon in D Major was not the composition selected to open the trap. She snapped her fingers and sat down at the piano again. "I think I know what it is."

Her fingers flew across the keys, tapping out 'River Flows In You', a Japanese composition Patricia was known for teaching her students. Yiruma was probably one of the greatest pianists of all time in Isabella's personal opinion. After a bit, she heard soft beeping and a whoosh of air as something popped out. She smiled widely and slid on a pair of latex gloves as she stood up to look at the little trap. Inside the little compartment, papers were strewn, along with huge stacks of bills.

"Her secret stash," she mused. She pulled the papers and stacks out, her eyes skimming the bills. "Frankie, there has to be almost a hundred large here."

He stood beside her, taking the papers from her hands. "Wow, she didn't really take losing well, did she?" he said. She shook her head. "There's a lot of compositions from Sal Rossi, someone named Sam Coach, Landon House...and Isabella Pacino."

Isabella's head shot up and she peered over his arm. "God, how many of my compositions did she take?" she growled. 'Hard To Love', 'Let It Slide', 'Broken' and 'Watch Me Shine' stared back at her as her jaw dropped.

"I wrote all of those and she stole them!" she said indignantly. All of her hard work...

"You wrote all of these?" he asked, clearly surprised. She nodded, her eyes on the lyrics carefully typed out. "That's impressive."

"It's how I got myself through high school," she replied. "Every single day, I had to prove I was good enough to go to a prestigious private school. It gave me something to strive towards, and I guess I could have made it if I stuck with it."

"How does a piano prodigy become a cop?" he asked. She leaned onto the floor, twisting her mouth in thought.

"Because of my father," she admitted. "I'm the only daughter of a criminal, and it was my way of proving I'm not like him, or my brother." It was true. Armando Pacino was a criminal, but he was the head of the Pacino crime family. In another world, she would be a Mafia bella.

"So, you just woke up one morning and decided to become a cop?" he said. It was pretty hard to believe, she had to admit.

"Not exactly," she replied. "Being a cop gave me a sense of importance. When a good friend of mine became a cop-"

"Flack?" he interrupted. She nudged his shoulder playfully, her eyes rolling to the ceiling.

"Jealous?" she teased. "But no, Donnie and I were in the academy together. A good friend of mine became a cop and I would always hear her tell stories about scenes she had responded to, how she had helped bring closure to families, no matter what the crime. I did ride-alongs with her after that and I got accepted to the police academy after high school." She had been a Narcotics officer, working drug cases. She had been assaulted numerous times, and it was a particularly aggressive dealer that had ultimately stabbed her in the cell.

"You had everything going for you, though," he said, seemingly unable to wrap his head around her choice of career. "Not that I'm saying you're not a good cop. You're a damn good one."

"I had a taste of the real music word and it terrified me," she admitted. "I had an album in the works, I blew off my friends, hardly spoke to anyone. Sal sat me down and said that he wanted to know what happened to the girl who sang because she loved it and played piano and guitar because she had a passion for it."

The sound of her phone ringing caught her attention and she examined the screen. It was a New York area code and she answered it.

"Detective Zuko," she said, holding up a finger to Frankie. They had decided the night before that their attraction was indeed mutual and something unable to be ignored. Currently, they were giving a relationship a try and told absolutely no one about it.

_"Isabella, thank God, it's you!" _an all-too familiar voice rushed over the phone. Isabella nearly dropped her phone in shock.

The man on the other line was Sal Rossi, her former voice coach and manager.


	27. Keep On Trucking

**_A/N: Alrighty, let's get it started!_**

**_RaiN: Well, we gotta get my sister's internet turned back on on the 15th, so it's only about four days without an update lol. I'll post oneshots when I get the chance! I'm more of a Facebook junkie than a Twitter junkie, to be hones lol. At least Patricia didn't claim the songs to be hers! Frankie has nothing to be jealous of ;D Thanks for the review!_**

* * *

><p><em>I feel like I've left my world, my life, my breath behind<em>

_But I know the sun will shine on through_

_'Cause I know that again I'll see you_

_This can't be goodbye_

Joanna Pacitti — 4th of July

* * *

><p>"So, what do you got planned tonight?" Frankie asked Isabella, looking over at her from his desk. She shrugged, tapping her pen on her desk.<p>

"Paperwork, most likely," she replied. "Because apparently, it's frowned upon to call someone a 'music-stealing bitch'. I need to have respect for the dead." Her eyes rolled skywards, causing him to chuckle.

"Well, you sort of implied to the victim's ex-husband that if she were alive, you would sue her to hell where she belongs. Actually, you didn't imply it, you sort of shouted it," he pointed out, remembering Isabella's outburst at Patrick Morris, the ex-husband of Patricia.

"Yeah, I was pretty out of line, wasn't I?" she said sheepishly. "At least Patrick was pretty cool about it. I mean, he didn't even launch a complaint against me." He knew she was trying to keep a chipper attitude and her mind off of the phone call she had received from Sal Rossi, her former voice coach. She had filled the team in on the call, saying that he had a feeling he was next. Don had called her earlier and said that Landon House had been found murdered in his penthouse, the same manner Patricia had been. Mattéa Rodriguez was recovering in the hospital after being attacked. Of course, the assailant had worn a mask, so she couldn't give any other description except for 'male' and 'Caucasian.'

"This killer is getting a bit too close here," Frankie finally said. Isabella raised her eyebrow at her boyfriend before sliding her pen back into the cup.

"I know," she replied with a sigh. Jane walked into the bullpen, slapping down a file onto Isabella's desk.

"We have another victim," she informed them. "A Sam Coach." Isabella sat up straight, pulling out the files.

"Sam Coach, he was one of the composers Sal worked with," she said. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at the autopsied photo. "Guys, this killer is going after the compositions Patricia had." Her head snapped up.

"And we still have no suspect," Jane replied. "Damn, what other music did Patricia have?"

"Sal Rossi's," Isabella said. Her blood ran cold and her heart thrashed wildly behind her ribs. "And mine."

* * *

><p>"So, what we know is that this serial killer is targeting former musicians, or vocal coaches. Samuel Coach was a retired composer, Patricia Morris was one of the most famous managers and vocal coaches. Landon House was a well-known musician. It all started with Patricia Morris, because it seemed as though she had used some work without permission. There are two musicians that are left from the stash Patricia Morris had, one Sal Rossi, and Detective Zuko," Korsak said, nodding to Isabella.<p>

"I have an alibi for all murders, so I can't be the killer," Isabella spoke up.

"Do you think the killer could be targeting her?" one of the uniforms piped up. Frankie knew him as Officer Martinez, one of the usual responses on scene. The Hispanic man had often flirted with Isabella, but right now, he looked downright annoyed at her.

"It's possible," Korsak replied. Right now, there was no skirting around it. People in the music world were being targeted, and it seemed as though Isabella would be targeted.

"Why would this killer target composers and musicians?" Frankie asked. It was difficult to wrap his head around and it frustrated him. Someone could be targeting his girlfriend, and he was powerless to do anything to stop it.

"The killer could feel inferior to composers," Isabella suggested. "He might wish to be a composer, but couldn't write the music well. Patricia Morris could have rejected him as a client and he wanted his revenge. As far as musicians go, I think our killer used to be one. Maybe one of our victims had taken his place in the spotlight, and he wanted it back."

That made sense. Frankie chewed on his pen, studying the board.

"I think this has something to do with Isabella and Mattéa Rodriguez," he finally said. "Because they've gone after some of the big names." It only made sense that the killer would target Isabella next. She was both a composer and a former musician.

"So, we have to draw the killer someplace she's gonna be," Jane suggested. Isabella rolled her head over to face her.

"Remember how splendidly that worked last time?" she retorted wryly. She smoothed out the front of her ruffled blue top and crossed her legs. Frankie studied her for a long moment, watching her long fingers tap her wrist, her arms crossed over her flat stomach. If this guy wanted a musician and a composer...

"I know a way we can get our killer without risking her safety," he finally said. Isabella turned her head over to face him and arched her eyebrow.

"Let's hear it," she said. "Honestly, I can't possibly think of a way." A slow smile curved across his face.

"Isabella used to be well-known as an artist, right?" he said. Slowly, everyone nodded. "Then, we bring him out using Isabella as bait, sort of a reunion. If this guy wanted an artist, and he's gone after the music in the stash, he wouldn't be able to pass a chance to get close to her."

"That's insane," Jane dismissed the idea. "Unless we get more evidence that this guy's after her, all it would do is get a concert out of it."

"It's actually a thought," Korsak disagreed with Jane. "He's gone after Patricia Morris, talent mogul, as well as other well-known artists, he would certainly go after Isabella."

"But he'd also have to after Sal," Isabella pointed out. "We'd give him a 'come and get me' shot at us." It was clear that she was considering it, and getting a little excited over the idea. He had seen such child-like excitement on her face as she had played the piano, like she was rejuvenated by it.

"If the killer strikes Boston again, we'll look into a farewell thing. We can't use taxpayer dollars on that," Jane pointed out. Isabella tapped the table, her smile still on her face.

"We won't need to," she replied. "Get me a spot, I can take care of the rest."

* * *

><p>Isabella took a deep breath, raking a hand through her dark hair as she leaned against the cold stone wall of the precinct. The October air still had a bite to it as she pulled her motorcycle-style black leather jacket closer to her body.<p>

"Hey, you ready?" she heard Frankie's now-familiar Bostonian accent ask. She smiled and stood up straight, nodding.

"Yeah, you?"

"Let's do this."

Currently, she was trying to call up as many people as she could, mostly Patricia's old clients wanting to do a whole shebang for her. In remembrance of, so to speak.

"Think this'll work?" she asked, glancing up at him as they walked down the street. He shrugged.

"Do you have faith in it?" he countered. "I mean, you are sort of a big deal still. Not many twelve year old girls could write songs the way you did." She nudged him playfully with her arm, her hands in her pockets.

"I haven't performed in front of anyone in such a long time," she admitted. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach at the thought of singing and performing onstage in front of people. "It's been thirteen years." If Mattie was feeling up to it, the two would most likely perform a duet. _Just like old times, _she thought dryly.

"Now that I think about it, I'm sort of dating a celebrity," he joked lightly. Isabella let out an unladylike snort at the joke, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Hardly," she scoffed with a roll of her eyes. "I was something serious to look at, that was it." She could feel his gaze on her, but she refused to budge from her statement.

"Modesty is cliche, Iz," he said. "You had tons of talent, there was no way you couldn't have made it."

_That was the problem, _she wanted to say. _I did have talent. I could have been big, but I let fear get the best of me._

Instead, Isabella shrugged. "I don't want to talk about it," she finally told him. "I had a shot and I blew it, okay? Let's just leave it at that." She was getting sick of people hearing her and wanting to understand her life choices. Music was her hobby, not her job. Being a law enforcement officer was her job, something she was passionate about. Something she loved. It was where she belonged.

Yet, the thought of doing something she loved had scared the hell out of her. Because now, she was worried.

What happened when she sang onstage? Would she come to realize that being a performer was what she was destined for after all?


	28. You and Me

**_A/N: I have been packing for seven hours! I need to rest and write. I had part of this written last night, but I was so tired, I just went to bed. And today, every time I sat down at the computer chair, I was kicked off. As soon as my account on my desktop loaded up, somebody kicked me off. But enough about me...I want to squeeze in a little fluff of Izzy and Frankie c: Lyrics to '4th of July' are in italics'. Also, the song she's been badgered to write is Lady Antebellum's "Ready To Love Again", once again, something I DO NOT OWN. Look it up, though...it's a great song...and this monster is to make up for lack of chapter the night before...I am moving on Friday and Saturday!_**

**_RaiN: XD Good thing I caught you, then! I had a late start on writing that chapter, it usually takes me an hour and a half to write those words, counting distractions (I participate in chatting on various sites, and people like me xD) Jane and Izzy do have potential to be best friends, so we'll see how that goes! I'd love to squeeze in more of Izzy's intelligence...but I loved writing a panicky Frankie in that respect xD _**

* * *

><p><em>'Cause it's you and me <em>

_And all other people_

_With nothing to do, nothing to lose_

_And it's you and me and all other people_

_And I don't know why I can't keep my eyes off of you_

Lifehouse — You and Me

* * *

><p>Isabella was thankful for a day off. It gave her time to see her family while they were in Boston, no matter how exhausting it was. Levi was looking for a new beginning after getting out of prison for possession of an illegal weapon, and currently worked in a garage in Lower Manhattan. Ian was currently attending Columbia University, studying business.<p>

Her iPod was playing on speakers and she dramatically belted out the lyrics to 'When You Look At Me' from 'Happy Days'. Chachi looked up at her from his dog bed on the floor, as if to say _And you're my owner?_

She pointed to her dog, her hand coming to rest over her heart. "You look at me, soft as any touch could be. And suddenly, there's magic when you look at me, and I can see love in your eyes," she sang to him. His stubby tail wiggled a little and she rubbed his head. "You're the funniest dog ever," she informed him as he rolled onto his back. She let out a laugh and rubbed his stomach, taking special care to scratch his favorite spots.

She loved having days off, when she could do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted to do it. She could walk around town wearing her tattered old bootcut jeans and a tank top, and no one could tell her otherwise. Chachi finally mustered strength to get out of bed and lumbered towards his food and water dish. Isabella felt saddened when she watched him. Her dog wasn't so young anymore, he was pushing seven. Isabella picked up her phone from the kitchen counter as it rang, the ringtone of Spice Girls' "Wannabe." She rolled her eyes and answered it.

"Hey," she greeted Frankie.

_"What are you up to?" he asked. _

"Singing dramatically to my dog and laugh hysterically at his facial expressions because he clearly thinks I'm a dumbass," she replied. "You?"

_"Off work for the rest of the day. Cavanaugh took pity on me because my partner's a clear target for a killer," he said. "You free?"_

Isabella laughed at the question. "You forget, hon. Outside of work, I have absolutely no life," she reminded him. "I'm standing here in my kitchen, wearing my jeans with all the holes in them while I pick up."

_"What you should be doing, is practicing your music for that remembrance," he chided. "You can't fly by the seat of your pants on this one, baby."_

She slapped her forehead as the reminder registered. She had completely forgotten all about it.

"Dammit, I forgot!" she growled. "I need to call Sal, see how many singers he has on board." She knew that Mattie wanted to do it, despite the circumstances. As well as Brenda Collins and Sequoia Phelps, two singers that Isabella had attended school with.

_"Mm-hmm. And did you finish that song you were going to do for it?" he asked. _She groaned, rubbing her makeup-less eyes. Of course she hadn't.

"Can't you let me goof off a little?" she complained. It meant she had to pull out her old guitar and tune it up and get into her zone.

_"As much as I would love to, you need to get this done," he told her. _Isabella chuckled. She loved the fact that Frankie was able to kick her ass into doing pretty much anything when she slacked off.

"At least you're not here," she said. "I'd never get any work done." A clear shot at his ego.

_"Are you telling me that I distract you?" he asked, a teasing tone in his voice. _She giggled, leaning over her counter.

"Majority of the time, yes," she replied. "At least I already know the lyrics to the collaboration song me, Mattie, Brenda, and Sequoia are doing." The four of them were performing 'Lady Marmalade' in style of Moulin Rouge.

_"Go write your song," he told her. "Don't make me come over there to babysit you." _Her eyes rolled skywards again as she tapped her counter with her finger.

"Do you even know what 'the zone' entails? It's worse than baseball players and football players combined," she informed him. Her head lolled backwards, her eyes closing. "Damn, I gotta take Chachi out for a run...he's been cooped up in the house for a long time." Her dog raised his head at the sound of his name, his floppy ears pricking. "Yeah, I'm talking about you, handsome."

_"Aw, I didn't know you cared," Frankie teased. _Isabella rolled her eyes, scoffing.

"Yeah, you're alright," she informed him with a chuckle. She picked a piece of lint from her destroyed black skinny jeans, smoothing out the worn denim. They had been in perfect condition when she had bought them, but after years of playing rough, they were torn in the knees, up the thighs, and near the back pocket. She paired it with her old Superman T-shirt.

_"So, what are you going to do?" he asked. _She sighed and fidgeted with the ends of her ponytail.

"I'll finish the song and quit procrastinating after I take Chachi to the dog park," she promised. "The poor boy's been going out of his mind."

_"Have you gotten your truck yet?" he asked. _Isabella looked at the clock. Damn, she had to pick it up this afternoon!

"After I pick up my truck and take Chach to the park, I am going to finish the song," she reworded her promise with a chuckle. "But I also have to rehearse. Apparently, when Sal told people about the concert, tickets are selling like hotcakes." He chuckled over the line.

_"Because people know you're going to be there," he pointed out. _Isabella smirked.

"That's the beauty of it. No one knows I'm performing there. I'm the special guest," she boasted. She slid the phone between her face and shoulder as she slid on her Converses and tied the laces.

_"Do I still need to fight off Giovanni?" he asked. _

"Nah," she replied. "But it's an entirely different story if you want to ride along with me to pick up my truck. You know, spend time with your girlfriend and her dog..."

_"Is that your backwards Izzy way of saying you want to spend time with me?" he asked. _

"Yes," she replied with a chuckle. "I think you're pretty cool, I like seeing you."

* * *

><p>She stood in the dog park, watching as her dog raced around the park, barking wildly at another dog. His stubby tail wagged as he dropped his front to play. Isabella chuckled and whistled for him. Chachi raised his head and bounded over. She patted his head and pulled out his ball from her purse. Immediately, he watched as she held it up, clearly interested. She threw it as hard and far as she could and watched as he bounded after the ball, a black and mahogany blur.<p>

"You have some nerve, bringing such a dangerous dog to this park!" she heard a woman say. She was older, with a hat parked on top of her gray head. Her little Chihuahua poked his head out from her purse, wearing a pink tutu.

"You got nerve, carting your little rat around in a purse and making it wear a tutu!" Isabella countered. When Chachi held the neon green tennis ball in his mouth, he proudly trotted towards his mistress and dropped it at her feet. "My dog wouldn't hurt a fly."

"Rottweilers will turn against you," the lady sniffed. Frankie was supposed to be meeting her soon, and she could hardly wait. "They can't be trusted."

"According to whom?" Isabella muttered. "Chachi's been around small children and babies his entire life, ma'am. He hasn't hurt them once, and I can guarantee you that if you were to pet him right now, he wouldn't bite you. Or your dog."

She picked up the ball and tossed it again. In horror, she watched it bounce off someone's head. Chachi tore after the ball and picked up the ball with triumph, knocking the man down in the process. Isabella ran after her dog, her eyes wide.

"Oh my God, I am so sorry!" she apologized as she helped the stranger off the ground. He rubbed his head and allowed her to help him up.

"Hell of an arm you got there," he said with a chuckle. His eyes fell on Chachi, who pranced around with his tail wagging. "And a hell of a dog." Isabella took the ball from him, her face warm with embarrassment.

"He usually doesn't barrel people down in quest for a ball," she said, tossing it again. "I'm really sorry about that." He was cute, she noticed. Dark hair, exotic looks.

"No worries," he assured her. He extended a hand. "I'm Tommy." She shook it.

"I'm Isabella, and that wrecking ball is my dog, Chachi," she replied, shaking her head as her dog bounded back to her. "Lovable dork, but I couldn't live without him."

"He seems like a great dog," he commented. She smiled and nodded, taking the ball from him. Chachi watched intently as she tossed the ball again.

"He really is," she replied. "I rescued him as a puppy, and he's been with me ever since." She left out the bad situation, because it seemed a bit too uppity to share with a stranger. A bit boastful.

Chachi sat at her feet to take a breath, his head hanging. Isabella patted his head and smiled up at Tommy. "You could probably pet him, he's really easygoing," she told him. As if on cue, the Rottweiler stuck his neck out to be petted.

"Hey, Izzy!" she heard Frankie call. She looked up at her boyfriend and partner with a smile.

"Hey!" she called. Immediately, Chachi bounded towards him, his stubby tail wagging. A look of recognition came on Frankie's face as he saw Tommy.

"Hey, what brings you here?" he asked, shaking his hand. How did he know him? Frankie turned and looked at Isabella. "Iz, this is my brother, Tommy." Oh...his brother. Frankie had spoken of his brother, but Isabella had never met him. "Tommy, this is my partner, Isabella Zuko."

Tommy chuckled, shaking her hand again. "We met," he informed him.

"Yeah, Chachi knocked him down after I hit him in the head with a tennis ball," Isabella explained, her embarrassment returning. "But I apologized, at least."

* * *

><p>Isabella felt a little uneasy as Frankie watched her from his spot on the couch. She was sitting at the piano with her sheet music parked in front of her and her glasses perched on her face. Contacts irritated her when she was trying to work, she preferred glasses. Currently, her fingers floated over the keys, pressing them for the opening intro of '4th of July', the song she had written when she was younger. The one she was most known for.<p>

_Every little kiss I tend to hold  
>Precious in my heart, you've turned to gold<br>Love's not the word to explain just how I feel  
>It seemed like a dream but I'm wide awake<br>And like the Earth, inside it made me shake  
>Like a summer fairytale, but it was real<br>You set off a brand-new kind of spark inside of me  
>And I wouldn't leave your lips even to breathe<em>

_The first time I saw you, you were lighting up the sky  
>Like bright, flashing fireworks on the fourth of July<br>No, I won't forget and I don't regret  
>Losing myself deep inside of your eyes<br>The night I'll remember for the rest of my life_

_I cherish all the moments that we spent  
>I only wish it never had to end<br>I can take a journey in my mind, to yesterday  
>I'll use the moon and stars to guide me there<br>A place so far away, but yet so near  
><em>_Just to hold you one more time, I'd be okay  
>You set off a brand-new kind of spark inside of me<br>And I wouldn't leave your lips even to breathe_

_The first time I saw you, you were lighting up the sky  
>Like bright, flashing fireworks on the fourth of July<br>No, I won't forget and I don't regret  
>Losing myself deep inside of your eyes<br>The night I'll remember for the rest of my life_

_I feel I left my world, my life, my breath behind  
>But I know the sun will shine on through<br>'Cause I know that again I'll see you  
>This can't be goodbye<br>We'll meet again on the fourth of July_

_The first time I saw you, you were lighting up the sky  
>Like bright, flashing fireworks on the fourth of July<br>No, I won't forget and I don't regret  
>Losing myself deep inside of your eyes<br>The night I'll remember for the rest of my life_

She ended the song before setting the music aside. Isabella had informed him that if she was going to finish something, she needed absolute silence. He couldn't comment on what she'd done so far, because it would ultimately distract her. She frowned deeply before pulling out her music for the song Frankie had been badgering her to finish. Isabella rested her head on the keys, drawing a blank. The sound rang out in the house as the keys plunked.

"Writer's block!" she complained. She looked over at Frankie, her eyes pleading. "Can I take a break? I've been at this for a few hours." He patted the cushion next to him and she slid off the bench to sit next to him. His arm curved around her waist and he kissed the top of her head.

"You are talented," he told her. She looked up at him and kissed the curve of his jaw, nuzzling his neck. "You really are."

"Thanks," she said softly. "I do miss it sometimes." His lips touched hers, tentatively at first. "But I'm not going back to it."

She returned the kisses gently, her hands coming to rest on his broad shoulders.

"That's good," Frankie replied. Their foreheads touched and his hand came to rest on her face. "But sing your heart out, alright? Even if it's not really for Patricia Morris."

Isabella chuckled. "Yeah, it's really to show I haven't lost my touch," she agreed. "I can still bring it." He kissed her again at the end of her sentence and she rested her head on his chest.

"Show 'em what you got," he told her. She smiled at his words, her gaze lifting to meet his.

"Hey, I'll prove that I can not only still sing, I'm still hot," she replied. He kissed the top of her head, his laughter rumbling in his chest.

"Yes, you are," he agreed.


	29. The Little Moments

**_A/N: So, I got the idea for this while watching Dane Cook 'Breaking and Entering' and it's just that one part where the friend is like: *breathes heavily* and Dane's like: "I don't know what that means, but I'm doing it" xD I decided to write more fluff. Short chapter tonight, though..._**

**_Danny, Lindsay, and Lucy Messer are owned by CSI:NY. Not me_**

**_RaiN: Glad I could make your night! I smiled while writing that conversation myself, I could just see Izzy leaning over a counter and talking to him. She's not one to say cutesy, romantic stuff, so I had to put 'I think you're cool' on it xD I loved writing the part where Chachi knocks down Tommy. I could just see a Rottweiler knocking him down! And you spelled immensely correctly! Yay! I'm happy you enjoyed it :)_**

* * *

><p><em>There will finally come one moment<em>

_When one man and one woman_

_Get everything that they've been waiting for_

_I'll take you in my arms again_

_Feel your skin against my skin_

_Let the sheet fall slowly to the floor_

_'Til nothing comes between us anymore_

John Michael Montgomery — 'Til Nothing Comes Between Us

* * *

><p>What Frankie did to deserve Isabella, he didn't know. She was beautiful, she was smart, she was funny, she wasn't scared to act goofy or say what was on her mind. His mother adored her, she knew what the job entailed. Yet, even with her faults and flaws, she still found something in life to enjoy. She was the type to slip and fall on her ass, but laugh at her own clumsiness, rather than be embarrassed that she fell.<p>

"You look dead on your feet," he commented, pushing her glasses onto her face. She smiled sleepily at him and kissed his cheek.

"Thanks," she replied. "And I'm technically sitting down. I'm not really on my feet." He had to admit, he preferred her glasses. They just seemed to complete her entire face.

"Smartass," he teased. He caressed the ruts of her rib-cage, feeling her nuzzle his neck. "We both got tomorrow off, right?" She shrugged, stifling a yawn.

"I get two days off every nine," she replied. "You?" He nodded.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Which means a bit more time." She opened her mouth to say something, but her yawn took over her petite body.

"Sorry," she apologized after she rubbed the waterline of her eyes. "I've been running on fumes since four am." He gently laid her head on his chest, breathing in the scent of her hair. Poor thing.

"You've been a cop too long," he informed her. She submitted a chuckle and took a deep breath.

"Next week, I have to go back to New York for a few days," she told him. She moved her face up to see him and he saw the uncertainty in her blue gaze.

"What for?" he asked before it occurred to him. The holidays.

"Thanksgiving," she replied. "And my stepdad's getting out of prison." That was what was bugging her. Her abusive stepfather was being released.

"Is it a good idea for you to go?" he queried, watching as she was slowly withdrawing. She shrugged, brushing her hair out of her face.

"Mom says he's changed, but I don't know," she answered. "It's something I'll have to see for myself." His lips touched her forehead before kissing her.

"You're still one of the bravest women I know," he informed her. "Don't let him talk down to you, alright?" She nodded, returning his kiss.

"I promise," she whispered.

* * *

><p>God, Isabella missed him. The four days she took off of work to be in New York for Thanksgiving were the longest days of her life. His words echoed in her mind.<p>

_Don't let him talk down to you, alright?_

His faith in her left her throat thick. She examined her reflection in the mirror of her childhood bedroom as she pulled her hair into a ponytail. Her purple cashmere sweater-dress hugged every curve of her body, from her shoulders to her hips. Isabella was about to see some of her old friends from the NYPD and she was excited. Mitch was being released from Sing Sing tonight, which chilled her to the bone.

The sound of her phone beeping on the dresser caught her attention and she picked it up.

"Zuko," she sighed.

_"Where are you?" she heard Jane ask. "You were supposed to be at work an hour ago!" _Isabella tilted her head in confusion.

"Jane, I'm in New York," she explained. "Didn't anyone tell you?" There was a frustrated growl over the phone.

_"No, no one did," she replied. "That would explain everything, though." _Isabella had left Chachi with Tommy and she missed her canine. Tommy called her nightly to tell her how Chachi was doing and it was easy to see that her boyfriend's brother was fond of the Rottweiler.

"I'll be back in Boston in about two days, so you guys can live without me 'til then," she informed her friend. Jane had found out about the abuse on her file, after the complaint had been launched.

_"So, I saw your file the other day," Jane had said. Isabella raised her eyebrow in confusion._

_"I have nothing to hide on my file," she replied. Except for hospital records and complaints..._

_"Your stepfather's being released from prison in a few days," Jane said. Her dark eyes were burning with curiosity and sympathy. Isabella hated that combination. It annoyed her to no end. _

_"Yeah, he is," she responded, trying to keep her voice light. Don't bring up the abuse, please!_

_"Are you doing alright?" Jane asked. It was clear that the older detective was trying to look out for her. Isabella liked Jane Rizzoli. The two were very similar and had gotten along famously since the night at the Dirty Robber. _

_"I'm fine," Isabella insisted. "If I wasn't, I wouldn't lie about it." She knew Jane knew about the abuse. _

_"He assaulted you," she stated matter-of-factly. Isabella hesitated before answering._

_"Yeah, he did," she admitted. "Aggravated domestic assault on an officer got him ten years." _

_"That wasn't the first time, was it?" Jane asked. Isabella closed her eyes and shook her head._

_"No," she finally said. "But I don't like talking about it." Jane squeezed the younger woman's shoulder._

_"No one ever does," she said. "But you know we're here for you."_

Isabella smoothed out her sweater over her black jeans and she slid her feet into a pair of black flats. Her black leather jacket was zipped all the way up and she was finished getting ready. It was exciting to have lunch with the Messers. She hadn't seen Lindsay since the hospital, and hadn't seen little Lucy for a year.

"Hey, Iz, Danny's here!" Teagan hollered up the stairs. Isabella chuckled and slid her purse over her arm. It was time to go.


	30. Back In Town

**_A/N: Tomorrow night, I get to see Josh Turner in concert 8DDDD I can't wait! I freaking love him! _**

**_RaiN: Well, I had accidentally deleted the chapter because FanFiction logged me out lol. Frankie and Isabella really do deserve each other, they have that cute little chemistry. Izzy and Jane are good friends and I like writing their friendship. I can't wait to watch the new CSI:NY tonight! Next week's episode will have to be watched online, as I'm going to my sister's house...I won't be able to write there, because her husband uses their computer to do school. I do hate moving though, but thanks!_**

* * *

><p><em>Been a long time since I came around<em>

_Been a long time, but I'm back in town_

Lady Gaga — You and I

* * *

><p>Isabella entered O'Charley's and immediately, her eyes scanned for her friends.<p>

"Auntie Izzy!" she heard a little voice yell. Isabella turned around in time to see little Lucy charge towards her, blonde curls bouncing. She lifted the four year old off the ground in a tight hug.

"Lucy Lu!" she greeted her, kissing her cheek. Lucy's bright smile lit up her little face as her arms wrapped around her "aunt's" neck. Isabella had been there for the birth of Lucy Messer, and had been there ever since.

"Long time, no see," Lindsay commented. Her hair was darker than Isabella remembered, and stylishly cut. A tuft of side-bangs swept across the left side of her face, partially shrouding her big brown eyes. Isabella hugged her best friend and slid Lucy onto her hip.

"I know, I know, but my new job keeps my attention," Isabella apologized with a sheepish smile. "At least I'm here now." She scanned the restaurant, standing on her tiptoes.

"Danny's running a little late, but he should be here soon," Lindsay told her. "But the others caught wind of your being in town and they've decided that you're more important than our current case." Isabella let out a light laugh.

"I'm flattered," she replied, following her through the crowd. "So, everyone's here?"

Immediately, she felt someone hug her from behind and lifting her and Lucy.

"Daddy!" Lucy squealed. "Auntie Izzy here!" Isabella handed Danny his daughter and gave him a tight hug.

"Found Danny!" she hollered over her shoulder. When she reached the table, the smiling faces of Mac, Jo, Hawkes, Adam, Don, and Sid greeted her. Isabella sat down in her seat, between Mac and Adam.

"How's that spiffy job of yours?" Hawkes asked, his voice teasing. Isabella rolled her eyes and placed the cloth napkin on her lap.

"Oh, it's spiffy alright," she replied. "No one told one of my superiors that I was gone and she called me earlier wanting to know where I was." Don chuckled.

"How is everyone there?" he asked.

"They're doing fine," Isabella replied with a shrug. "The case we're working on is annoying the hell outta me, but I'll live."

Seeing her old friends was exactly what she needed. Their chatter was always lively as the inquisition started about her job, her partner, her team...

"So, who's your new partner?" Jo asked, taking a bite of her steak. Isabella chuckled.

"His name's Frankie and he passed his detective's exam last year, so they wanted someone with more experience to work with him," she replied. "He's got good instincts as a cop."

"He's related to Jane, isn't he?" Don commented. She nodded.

"Brother and sister," she replied. She tilted her head. "Wait, you guys met Frankie, I think. When you were all looking for Diego." Her legs swung from the high-up chair, her shoe dangling from her toes as she twirled her fork around her fettucine chicken alfredo.

Her eyes lazily and distractedly fell on her glass of iced water and randomly watched the lemon wedge float in the clear liquid, the condensation running along the sides of the cup.

"Is your ME as good as Sid?" Hawkes asked in a teasing voice. Isabella smiled faintly.

"She's a good doctor, but she's not as creepy as him!" she joked, tossing her straw wrapper at the older man. "But let's just say I now know more about anatomy of the human body than I ever wanted to!"

* * *

><p>It was the moment of truth as she watched the front door open to her mother's house. Siobhan walked in, holding Mitchell by the hand. Isabella met her stepfather's brown gaze for the first time in twelve years. The age showed on his face, his once-dark hair streaked with gray. Lines were etched onto his skin, and his eyes appeared sunken-in.<p>

"Mitch has something he would like to say to you, Isabella," Siobhan informed her daughter. Isabella stood up and helped him sit down.

"I'm sorry," were his first words. Usually, his words were cold and empty, but now they were full of regret and sorrow. She was taken aback by his words as her eyes widened.

"I was terrible to you growing up and I don't expect you to forgive me. I didn't have it easy growing up, and I made sure you didn't either. I just want you to know that I sincerely, deeply apologize and that I regretted every single blow I ever stuck on you and your brother and sister."

Her heart stung as he spoke, shock and surprise flooding through her veins. Isabella stood dumbfounded in front of him and tears pricked her eyes. She hadn't cried since the trial. Not once.

"You made my life hell for twelve years," she whispered as the hot tears trickled down her cheeks. "The apology's a start, but I'm not ready to forgive. The emotional and mental scars remain, and you cut me deep."

"I don't expect you to, Isabella," Mitch replied. His own eyes were flooded with tears as he surveyed her. Unsteadily, he got to his feet. "I won't hurt you, not anymore."

"I want proof," she said simply. He enveloped her in his arms and Isabella sobbed in her stepfather's arms as he did the same.

"I want to start fresh. Is it too late?" he asked. She shook her head. God, how she hated her forgiving nature. An apology wasn't enough, but with those words and actions, it was a hell of a start. "I want to know you, I don't want to be some vicious brute in your memories."

"I have every right to be mad at you, and I have every right to hate you," she said. "But honestly, all it would do is eat me alive until I'm some scarred, bitter harpy." The only men who had ever acted like a father to her were Manny Ramiro and Donald Flack Sr.

"If there's anything I can do, you just let me know." For once, she didn't flinch as Mitch kissed the top of her head.

* * *

><p>Frankie heard his phone ring at about one in the morning. Luckily, he was off the clock and on his way home. It was Akon's 'Dangerous', a song that suited his partner and girlfriend to the core.<p>

"Hey, beautiful," he said with a smile. Instead of her either cheery or snarky greeting, he heard quiet sobs. "Are you alright?"

_"My stepdad was released from prison today," she said, her voice thick with tears. _Never in his life had he ever heard or seen Isabella cry.

"Did he hurt you?" Frankie immediately asked in concern. When she uttered an 'uh-uh', he was relieved.

_"He apologized for everything he'd ever done to me," she replied. "He wants me to forgive him for what he did." _That was ballsy. She had just come to terms with the physical and emotional abuse that had been inflicted on her, and now a monkey wrench was being thrown into the equation.

"It's completely up to you," he reminded her. She sniffled on the other line and she took a deep breath.

_"I know," she replied. "I just don't know what to do."_


	31. Thank God for Stones and Jane Rizzoli

**_A/N: I've finally had time! Saturday might be my last night of updating, but you'll notice if a chapter's not updated..._**

**_RaiN: Yes, it is! Lol. I'm glad you liked it! I was tearing up as well when I wrote that part, I can just imagine the disgust Isabella could feel for her stepfather, and I can just see her when I listen to the song 'Dangerous'! And I can just see her singing Wannabe in the car and Frankie just being like: 'oh god i cant believe im dating that'_**

* * *

><p><em>Second chances they don't ever matter<em>

_People never change_

_Once a whore, you're nothing more_

_I'm sorry, that'll never change_

Paramore — Misery Business

* * *

><p>Watching Sheila practically undress Frankie with her eyes was driving Isabella crazy. Every time the she-devil fluttered her eyelashes in his general direction, Isabella would seethe inwardly. Instead, she settled for glaring every weapon possible on Sheila Archer while the tall blonde worked her 'magic'. It was purely for sport, she knew. Just for grins and giggles, and of course, to piss her off to another planet.<p>

"Wow, Sheila, your caseload must be overwhelming," Jane commented sarcastically. Sheila gave the older detective a pouted smile.

_God, kill me now._

"Not exactly," she drawled. "I finished my work early, so I get to do what I please."

"Well, Detective Rizzoli and Detective Zuko haven't finished theirs, so don't distract them," Jane said.

_Thank God for Jane Rizzoli._

Isabella fought a snarky remark, merely settling for a self-satisfied smile. One of these days, she was going to really rip into the blonde Vice detective.

"God, I was about to rip her a new one," Jane said. Her dark gaze rested on Isabella. "Although, if you stood up to her every once in a while, I wouldn't have to."

"I have three complaints on my record because of the Wicked Bitch of the East Coast," Isabella replied. "One more and I get suspended. She ain't worth losing pay."

"Let's just say you have a legitimate reason to file a complaint against her," Jane said. "And I can be your witness. Frankie can say she was sexually harassing him."

"Yeah, right," Isabella scoffed. Her gaze lifted to her partner and boyfriend. "No offense, Bruins, but it's not like you're quick to point the finger." Sports were the only thing they were in disagreement with. He was a loyal Patriots fan, she was a Giants fan. Frankie preferred Red Sox, she was a Yankees fan. He was a loyal follower of the Boston Bruins (ice hockey), she was an avid Rangers lover.

"Yeah, she's like this psychotic tractor beam of blonde, just pointed right at you," Jane agreed.

"But he's just for sport," Isabella commented. She gave a half-smile as she felt Frankie's glare on her. "I mean, he's just Third Grade. Not like he's a ranking detective or anything."

"I'm right here," he protested. She lifted her head, letting out a laugh.

"I'm just jokin'," she assured him. "I already know I'm a way better cop than her, with a way better rep and a way wilder past than Sheila Archer. If it comes down to it, I've got it in the bag."

"I honestly do not want to know if that tongue ring is involved," Jane said. Isabella chuckled, shaking her head as if in reminiscence. When her friend looked immediately horrified and Frankie looked vaguely interested, she let out a peal of hysterical laughter.

"Wow, you guys are gullible," she informed them as she stood up, sliding her papers into her outbox. "I could probably convince you the sky was green if I put my mind to it."

Isabella strode out of the bullpen to get a cup of coffee. So far, her first day back was going splendidly.

"What's up, bitch?" she greeted Sheila. The green-eyed detective simply glared at her and Isabella grinned broadly in return.

"You got some stones, talking to the head of the Vice squad like that," Korsak commented as he filled his cup. Isabella rolled her eyes in response.

"She's the reason we need one," she replied, sticking her tongue out at her sergeant. She knew that he didn't care if she did things like that. Vince Korsak was an easygoing guy.

"And she's the reason people commit homicide," Sheila shot back. Isabella gave her a sickly sweet smile.

"You're the reason they commit suicide," she retorted as she walked out of the cafe. Self-satisfaction was so incredible as she sat down. Oh, she knew she would regret that later...

"I'm so going to get fired," she announced. "Remember me."

"What'd you do?" Frankie asked from his desk. Isabella stirred her coffee, chewing on the inside of her lip.

"I told her she was the reason we had a Vice squad and the reason most people commit suicide," she replied. His pen dropped onto the desk.

"Isabella Reagan," he scolded. "You're gonna get your ass kicked for that." She glanced around the bullpen before a sly smile curved across her face.

"Yes, but it gives me time to do things I'd rather do," she purred, leaning over onto her hand. _Hot damn, I'm good. _Watching him squirm a little in his seat kept the satisfaction in her stomach. When Sheila had done it, he had seemed nervous, but when Isabella did it, she made him squirm. "Mm-hmm. There are so many other things I could do...how will I ever keep myself out of trouble?"

"You're unfair, you know that?" he informed her. She let out a giggle and turned her attention back to her paperwork. Her eyelashes brushed her cheek as she studied the words.

"Life's unfair, Bruins," she reminded him. "Why should I be any different?"

* * *

><p>Isabella stretched out on Frankie's floor, watching TV upside down. He had offered to order in something, which was always fine by her. Takeout was the steady diet of an NYPD cop. If you couldn't order it in, you would starve to death.<p>

"Why is it that you always watch TV on your back?" he asked after he set his phone down. She shrugged, breaking her gaze to look at him. She had since changed out of her trousers and a button-down blouse, settling for a pair of dark jeans and a turquoise camisole with a black blazer. Frankie pulled her to her feet and she stretched onto her toes to kiss him.

"By the way, jealousy is sort of cute on you," he informed her, kissing her nose. She crinkled her nose in response, her arms wrapping around his neck.

"I'm not jealous of Sheila Archer. I'm the one with the guy, not her," she replied.

"Oh please, you looked like you wanted to hurl your stapler at her and throw down right there," he said. She had been jealous, but she had kept it under control.

"Every cop has their rival," she reminded him. "Unfortunately, mine is some whiny, whorish blonde." He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her lips.

"I don't have one yet," he replied. The sound of the door knocking caused Isabella to yelp and skitter backwards. Frankie rolled his eyes in response. "Paranoid," he muttered to her before checking out the peephole.

"Hey, Ma!" he said, inviting Angela in. Isabella fought the urge to widen her eyes as Angela's brown eyes came to rest on her.

"Oh, you have company, I hope you don't mind my dropping in," Angela commented, giving Isabella a hug.


	32. Dangerous

**_A/N: So...no Josh turner for me tonight :c I wish I could go! But I got my iPod back (it breaks then fixes itself, it's weird), and I'm completely obsessed with The Script_**

**_RaiN: I could just picture Isabella going up to Sheila Archer and slapping her. But differing sports team seems to be a big part of relationships lol. I liked the Hurricanes (gotta represent your state!), my ex liked the Penguins. It was like WW3 every time the game was on. I had to point out how much of a maneater Sheila was. Frankie really was just for sport, but she's going to cause a bit of trouble with Isabella. Isabella won't let Sheila kick her ass, but her boss will have choice words for her. I'm happy you enjoyed it!_**

* * *

><p><em>Watch out, I've seen her type before<br>__That girl is so dangerous  
><em>_That girl is so dangerous  
><em>_That girl is a bad girl  
><em>_I've seen her type before  
><em>_She's so dangerous, that girl is so dangerous  
><em>_That girl is a bad girl, yeah  
><em>_I see you've got that fire by the way that you're walkin'  
>From left to right, I watch her go down<br>_

Akon — Dangerous

* * *

><p>Isabella stood in the sparring room in the gym, watching the sparring bag dangle from its chain, suspending from the ceiling. Her lithe body was clad in a pair of form-fitting black shorts and a black padded sports-bra, her scar from her earlier days as a uniform on clear display. Isabella landed a swift kick to the bag, hands wound tightly with tape as she delivered a solid punch to it. The bag rocked as more hits were delivered to it. Wordlessly, she delivered a swift roundhouse kick to the bag, her Puma-clad foot high in the air.<p>

Once, her frustrations had come out on the bag and had knocked it down. That was her goal today. Kicking the crap out of a bag and wishing it was Sheila Archer.

More flirtation between that she-demon and her partner/boyfriend. The line was becoming blurred, and Isabella didn't like it. Another solid punch to the bag.

Frankie was supposed to be her partner, but once again, her feelings were getting in the way. The sound of the door opening caught her attention and she slowed. Sweat rolled down her neck and she picked up her towel to wipe it off, ready to fix her ponytail.

"Try not to knock it down," she heard Juan Martinez say. "It's a bitch trying to get it back up." Isabella chuckled, shaking her head and took a swig of her Gatorade.

"You're telling me," she muttered, screwing the cap back on. She wiped her forehead with her towel again and walked back onto the mat, sticking her earbuds back into her ears and flicking her iPod back on. AC/DC filled her head as she continued to kick and hit the bag.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the handsome Latino trying to get her attention. She pulled her earbud out to look at him.

"Would you like a sparring partner?" he asked. She shrugged and pulled her iPod out of the cup of her sports-bra, winding the cord around it.

"Sure," she replied, tucking the device in her olive green canvas bag. She tilted her head to pop her neck and she stretched her muscles out. "I'm a little rusty, I haven't beaten the hell out of anyone for a while."

"What makes you think I wouldn't give you a run for your money?" he winked. She rolled her eyes and stood in front of him, trying not to appear self-conscious as his eyes trailed down her body.

"Would you honestly hit a fair maiden like myself?" she teased innocently as she slid into offensive position. Her feet slid apart, her knees bent, her arms ready to attack.

"Fair maiden?" Juan echoed with a scoff. She let out a giggle as her arm snaked around his neck and she yanked him down into a headlock. His arm snaked around her leg and he stood up straight, keeping her leg in his grip. Juan Martinez stood a good twelve inches higher than she, and had a good fifty pounds on her. She kicked his thigh and pulled him down over her. Isabella's elbow collided with his gut and she rolled him into his back, straddling his stomach.

"Tap out," she ordered. He laughed under her weight, his short hair soaked with sweat, and flexed his arm muscle, grabbing her knee. She let out a yelp as he pinned her down onto her stomach.

"You tap out," he challenged. Isabella blew a lock of dark hair from her face, shaking her head.

"Never," she swore. His grip tightened on her wrists, keeping her down. She writhed against him, kicking her legs out. When her legs struck his, he let out a grunt. Isabella felt Juan's grip loosen, and she went for it. She yanked her wrists from his grip and shouldered his chest, hearing another grunt come out of him.

"You tap out," she said, her voice teasing. He patted his hand against the floor. She helped him up, taken by surprise when his foot hooked itself to her ankle and pulled her down.

"I win," he told her. She let out a giggle as he helped her to her feet.

"You cheated," she told him. Isabella wiped the sweat from her brow and slid the tie out of her hair. She gathered the thick, messy waves into a higher ponytail and tightened it.

"I gotta go, but I'll kick your ass fair and square later."

* * *

><p>"Greetings, cohorts in crime-fighting," Isabella said as she breezed into the bullpen. A cool shower had been just what she had needed, and she was now dressed in a pair of silver pinstripe trousers, a lace-trimmed gray camisole, and a black blazer. Her usual black boots were replaced with a pair of black ankle booties. Black was her signature color, as were wide-leg, trouser-like jeans and blouses her signature style. Occasional skinny jeans, if tucked properly into her boots, or paired with flats.<p>

_Amicus meus fontis in deserto? _it read. She recognized Jane's handwriting and raised her eyebrow at her friend.

"You sent me a note in Latin?" she asked.

"Can you translate it?" Jane asked. Isabella rolled her eyes before examining it. She was fluent in Latin, Spanish, Italian, Irish, and French, as well as ASL because of James. After learning Latin in middle school and high school, learning Spanish had been a breeze. Thankfully, she had already learned Italian from Levi, and French was closely related to Spanish. Irish, she had learned from her mother.

"It reads: 'best friend, my well-spring in the wilderness'," she informed her. "Who sent this to you?" Jane shook her head, placing another note on her desk. It read '_amici probantur rebus adversis'. _Isabella arched her eyebrow as her eyes scanned it.

"Friends are being tried by adversity," she said. Another note placed on her desk. _Mors nihil vobis pugnabit sicut mos. _"Death won't hold you as tight as she will."

"Told you she's bilingual!" Jane hollered over her shoulder. Isabella's head shot up.

"Is that why you had me translate old friendship sayings and a line from a power metal song?" she asked, irritation coming over her. "I can actually speak five foreign languages and can do sign language, if you wanted to know."

"Wait, how did you learn five foreign languages?" Jane asked. Isabella fought the urge to slap her forehead and she looked up at her friend.

"I'm half-Irish, my mother spoke Irish around the house. I'm half-Italian, my brother taught me how to speak it. Latin is the base of a lot of languages, so I learned Spanish and French pretty quickly once I learned Latin."

The sound of 'Nothing' by The Script drifted through the speakers of her radio she kept on her desk and she turned her attention back to her paperwork, humming along with it.

"And my mates are all there, trying to calm me down, 'cause I'm shouting your name all over the town. I'm swearing if I go there now, I can change her mind, turn it all around. And I know that I'm drunk, but I'll say the words, and she'll listen this time, even though they're slurred. So I dialed her number and confessed to her that I'm still in love, but all I heard was nothing," she murmured along with the radio.

_Thank God for The Script, _she thought to herself as she scrawled her name, tapping her pen in her left hand. It was easy for her to tune out the others as they tried to get her attention.

"I broke into your house and moved around your furniture," Jane was saying. Isabella rolled her eyes and continued to fill out her paperwork. Usually, she filled it out as it came in, but recent events had captured her attention.

"I killed Korsak with your truck keys." She slid another sheet of paper into her outbox, trying her best to ignore Jane Rizzoli.

"I broke into your house and rearranged your DVDs," Frankie called. "They are now no longer alphabetized." She rolled her eyes again and continued to fill out her paperwork.

"I hit Chachi with my car this morning," Jane said. Isabella snorted as she finished organizing.

"The Rangers suck, so do all the sports teams from New York," Frankie said. That got her attention.

"You dis the Rangers again and I will kick your ass," she informed him. The defeat she had suffered this morning at Juan Martinez's hands was one she mulled over. She desperately wanted a rematch. Jane touched her ponytail, feeling the silky strands in her hand.

"Is your hair wet?" she asked. Isabella nodded absently, slipping the last bit of paperwork into her outbox.

"I took a shower after my workout before shift," she explained patiently. _After getting my ass whupped by Officer Martinez, _she added silently.

* * *

><p>"Oh, Theresa!" Isabella heard Jane call. She lifted her head and saw Jane stiffly hug a pretty brunette. Uh-oh. Isabella knew that look. It was the I-can't-stand-you-but-I'm-trying-to-be-nice look. She quickly turned her attention to her phone, trying to read an e-mail that Danny had sent her. Attached were photos from the lunch. Isabella couldn't help but giggle at all of the funny pictures she had taken with the team. One of her favorites was the one of herself and Lindsay, smiling at the camera with their heads tilted towards each other. Her all-time favorite was the one she had taken with Don and Danny, the caption added "The Three Musket-Queers", with 'Trix' over her head, 'Lucky Charms' over Don's, and 'Fruit Loops' over Danny's.<p>

It had been their inside joke since they had worked simultaneously three days in a row, and Isabella had been craving cereal. In a fit of utter delirium, they had dubbed themselves "The Three Musket-Queers" with their favorite cereals as their nicknames. Since Isabella had long since been dubbed the Prank Queen, she was given Trix. Don had found the Lucky Charms commercial incredibly hilarious and became Lucky Charms. Danny had cursed the two for taking the good cereal and finished off as Fruit Loops.

"I broke into your house and moved all of your Happy Days DVDs," Jane's voice cut through her thoughts. Isabella's head snapped up from her phone and met the other woman's gaze.

"What?" she asked. The brunette stood next to Jane, her eyebrow raised quizzically. "Sorry, I was lost in my memories." Isabella stood up and extended a hand. "Isabella Zuko."

"Theresa," the brunette said, shaking the other woman's hand. "Have you seen Frankie?" Isabella frowned, looking around the bullpen for the mysteriously vanished Frankie.

"Uh, no, not lately," she replied, her hands coming to rest on her hips. Her frown deepened as the question occurred to her. Why would this woman want her partner? In Theresa's hands, a set of papers stuck out. "I can call him in here-" she trailed off with a grunt as Jane threw an elbow to her ribs. "I'm going to go find-" Another elbow throw. More pain.

She let out a muted squall as she tried to construct another sentence, this time Jane's elbow had connected with her breast. "He took the day off," she finally said. No more pain.

"As you can see, he's not here," Jane said. "Looks like you'll have to come back later." Theresa gave Isabella a sickly sweet smile, which caused her stomach to churn. Something wasn't right here...


	33. Not Going Anywhere

**_A/N: T-T I have more time to write at least..._**

**_RaiN: I'm glad I excited you lol. I picture him as Amaury Nolasco (He was on CSI:NY as the killer in the episode 'The Closer', Ruben DeRosa) I would love to do a scene with a Sheila/Izzy sparring...more like Izzy beating the shit out of Sheila...I freaking love The Script! 'Nothing' and 'Breakeven' are my favorites! I could just see Izzy tapping away on her phone while they're saying stuff like: "I killed Korsak with your truck keys". But I'd love to see Izzy go up against Theresa!_**

* * *

><p><em>My head is saying "Fool forget him"<em>

_My heart is saying "Don't let go_

_Hold on till the end"_

_And that's what I intend to do_

_I'm hopelessly devoted to you_

Olivia Newton-John — Hopelessly Devoted To You

* * *

><p>Isabella was in hell. Complete, utter hell. Watching that vile temptress work her charms on Frankie was pissing her off beyond words. Sure, his old flame was in town, claiming to want to be friends. Frankie was the type who liked to be friends with people. He was a people person. But when he had blown off the remembrance concert, the biggest night in Isabella's life, it had been the last straw. He had missed collaring Patrick Morris for the murders in order to spend time with Theresa.<p>

"You look like you're about to commit murder, Zuko," Korsak commented. Isabella snapped out of her reverie and looked up at him.

"Is it possible to utterly despise someone you just met?" she asked rhetorically. "I don't use the 'h' word, but she's gettin' up there with Archer."

Of course, the vile Vice detective got along just _famously _with Theresa. Isabella clenched her fists, shaking her head in distaste. She was sick of this.

"It's getting to be a conflict of his work," Korsak said. "That's what I'm having a problem with." What made matters worse, was that she had trusted him, but he had proven her right. Every time she had trusted someone, they always gave her a reason not to. He had done just that.

"He's blown all of us off this week," she added bitterly. _Including me. _"Honestly, it happens one more time, I'm gonna say something."

"You've been pairing up with Jane, Frost, and me," he replied. "He's not acting like a detective with responsibilities. I think you're the one to talk to him."

"I think I will."

Isabella took a drink of her Pepsi, crunching the ice in her teeth. But once she had mistaken a cube for her tongue ring, she let out a screech of pain as she heard and felt the tip of the ring break. She spat the pieces into her hand, pulling out the tongue ring.

"Fuck a duck in the ass backwards three times in a row!" she cursed, tossing the piercing into the garbage and rummaging for a new tip. "Motherfucker, that hurt!"

"You alright?" she heard Frankie call. Her stomach churned with anger as she fought the urge to sneer at him. _Oh, so you're talking to me now? _

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," she replied, touching a napkin to her wounded tongue. "That fucking hurt." Of course, with the napkin on the tongue, it sounded more like 'Tha fuckin' hoort'.

She pulled it away and saw a faint trace of blood on the napkin.

"Here, I'm in medicine," Theresa said. Isabella's annoyance grew as the other she-demon stood near the desk, taking a look at her injured tongue. "You have some plastic in your tongue." She fought the urge to roll her eyes as she kept her tongue hanging out.

After fifteen minutes, the plastic shards from her green piercing was on a bloody napkin.

"Do you know what most women get their tongues pierced for?" Theresa asked, as if she were about to let Isabella in on a big secret.

"That's why I got it," Isabella muttered sarcastically as she slid her blue piercing in. "I got it when I was eighteen." At the time, it had been a good idea. Theresa let out a laugh.

"God, isn't she so hilarious, Frankie?" she said, drawling his name like a lover. Anger boiled in Isabella's gut. "I can see why you enjoy her sense of humor so much."

"Yep, I'm a fuckin' comedienne," she muttered under her breath.

* * *

><p>Frankie watched Isabella fume while his ex tossed away the napkin with the broken tongue ring on it.<p>

"I'll be right back," Theresa purred before she walked away. Isabella was clearly pissed off, but had no indication that she wished to talk about it.

"What's wrong?" he finally asked. Her face was pulled into a deep frown, her hands were clenched into a fist, her jaw was set.

"If you really don't know, I'm not going to tell you," she informed him, standing up. He stood up as well to face her.

"Is this about the concert? I told you I was sorry," he told her. What did she want him to do?

"This isn't about the fucking concert, Frankie," she said through gritted teeth.

"Talk to me, Blue Eyes," he urged her, taking a step towards his girlfriend and placed his hands on her arms. She shook her head, her blue eyes fiery with contempt.

"Every time I try, you shut me down! Ever since..." she trailed off as Theresa walked back into the room. She shook off his grip and stormed out of the room.

"What's with her?" Theresa asked, her hazel eyes on Isabella's retreating form. Frankie shook his head. He had long since given up trying to figure out his complex partner.

"I honestly have no idea."

* * *

><p>"How long does she usually stay in town?" Isabella asked Jane. She stood in the cafe with her hands on her hips as she studied her superior. "Because I'm honestly about to deck her into the next century."<p>

"Usually? Long enough to screw him over and break his heart," Jane replied. The two women watched the man in question converse with the woman of contempt. "He's barely acting interested this time."

Isabella raised her eyebrows in surprise as she watched them. He was acting like a lovesick puppy. If this was him barely interested, she would have hated to have seen him when he had been interested.

"Honestly, I think it's that new girl he's been seeing," Jane confided. Isabella whirled her head around to face her. "It's written all over his face."

"What is?" she asked curiously.

"He's always checking his phone. When someone texts, he gets this goofy look on his face like someone gave him a puppy," Jane explained. "And he's constantly in a good mood. Now, with Theresa back in the picture, he's not going after her. Whoever this girl is, he's got it bad for her and I hope she sticks around."

"Yeah, me, too," Isabella muttered under her breath as she walked away. When she reached outside of the precinct, she felt someone's hand go over her mouth and pull her into the alley. She writhed against him as she came face-to-face with her captor. Frankie. Her arms crossed over her chest as she met his gaze.

"Why are you so mad at me?" he asked. She rolled her eyes and turned to walk out of the alley.

"God, this again?" she demanded. He nodded, gripping her arm. She studied him for a moment before she rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"C'mon, Blue Eyes, I'm not as smart as you," he pleaded. "Just tell me what's wrong. All you said was 'ever since', then you stormed out."

The pressure of the relationship was nearly stifling her. She had to deal with the drama all on her own, without asking advice from anyone.

"This isn't working," she said simply. Shock crossed his features as he stared at her. "Seriously, our entire relationship is based on one huge lie."

"Is this about Theresa?" he asked. "I'm not interested in her, not anymore."

"This isn't about her!" she snapped. "She just made me realize why I shouldn't date people I work with." With those words, she turned and walked out of the alley. She heard him chase after her and quickened her pace.

"Tell me what this is really about," he stated. "You owe me that much." Isabella stopped in her tracks. Dead silent.

"I don't owe you a damn thing. You don't understand a damn thing about this entire thing," she spat.

"You're scared," he said. Her jaw nearly brushed the concrete as she glared at him.

"Enlighten me, Frankie. Please," she said. "How am I scared?" She planted her hands onto her hips, daring him to continue.

"Because something in your life is finally coming together and you bolt when that happens," he replied. "Because it's what you do. You get scared because you might actually feel something for me. And that involves getting those walls of yours down, and letting your guard down. And you've said so yourself that you don't let people in. Well, guess what, Blue Eyes? I'm in and it bugs the shit out of you."

His words caused the anger to rise as she recoiled.

"And if you felt absolutely nothing for me, you wouldn't still be standing here. You'd rip me a new one, then walk away. But the fact that you're still standing right here and listening to me lets me know that you do care and you do feel something. You're scared."

What annoyed the hell out of her the most was knowing he was right. She was starting to lower her defenses and open up. Isabella was scared to death of that. Giving someone her badly scarred and damaged heart was the equivalent of giving Superman kryptonite.

"But I'm not walking away from you. Why the hell won't you get that through your stubborn little head?" he continued. "God, Iz, I was screwed over by Theresa so many times that I was gun-shy around women. Another woman I had dated turned out to be an accomplice to a serial killer. You're probably the craziest sane woman I have ever dated."

* * *

><p>How the hell was he going to make this stubborn woman see that he wasn't going to leave her? Frankie wanted the long haul, Isabella deserved it. Isabella was Theresa's exact opposite.<p>

"That's a completely contradictory sentence," she informed him finally. Of course she would point that out.

"You're so completely, utterly eccentric, and the most down-to-earth person I know," he explained. "Honestly, I've never dated anyone who danced in a car to Funkytown, or name her dog after a TV show character from the seventies and eighties. Or sing in the car at the top of her lungs, or dance to songs from Disney. Most women I know don't have bras and panties with cartoon characters on them, let alone wear them. They don't dance to their ringtones, or yell at inanimate objects for ruining their day."

She pursed her lips at his words, as if sucking on a lemon wedge.

"They also don't sing to their dogs, or know all the words to the Little Einstein theme song, or know all the names of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Or drop the F-bomb about ten times in a row." For someone so small and delicate-looking, she swore like a sailor.

"I'm not natural, alright?" she snapped. "Let's not talk about my flaws anymore!"

"They're not flaws," he assured her, pulling her into his arms. "They're quirks. You're a very quirky woman." His lips touched her forehead, brushing to her hairline. "And dammit if I haven't grown used to them and have gotten used to explaining you to others."

Like to Theresa, who didn't understand Isabella's little eccentricities. The other woman had dubbed her as 'a weird little girl.'

"You can't get rid of me now," she teased lightly. Her baby blue eyes were softening. The truth of his words hit him like a ton of bricks. He wouldn't leave her. "I'm not quirky, just nonconforming." Frankie chuckled and pressed a kiss to her lips.

"And I'll have to get a dictionary," he replied. She giggled in response and returned the kiss gently.

"Deal," she agreed.


	34. Dirty Little Secret Revealed

**_A/N: Okay, so it's time to update! I've talked my mom into taking our desktop over to my OTHER sister's house, so I can bum off of her Wi-Fi to update every night. Hopefully. Anyhoo, I've been moving and working all day...it's time to write more of our favorite little couple *less than three* _**

**_RaiN: I had a ton of time yesterday lol that was the only reason I was able to update so much. I'm such a huge country fan. Country and rock are my entire life, but I have a little bit of everything on my iPod. If I know people pretty okay, I'm a people person. Most of my friends are guys, too, simply because I believe girls bring so much drama to the table. I think Izzy did want to kill him, or at least smack him over the head. Frankie needs some serious balls to be Izzy's boyfriend, though! She needed a wake-up call and he was just the one to give it to her! Isabella really is a very quirky person, but it's what makes her so irresistible. She's eccentric, and life without her would definitely be boring!_**

* * *

><p><em>Let me know that I've done wrong<em>

_When I've known this all along_

_I go around a time or two_

_Just to waste my time with you_

_Tell me all that you've thrown away_

_Find out games you don't wanna play_

_You are the only one that needs to know_

All-American Rejects — Dirty Little Secret

* * *

><p>"Oh, you look nice today," Maura commented as Isabella walked into the morgue to get a report on the body. The petite detective smiled in thanks and slid her hands into the pockets of her tan corduroy jeans.<p>

"Thank you," she replied. "What is it that you found on my John Doe?"

Maura held out a tablet. "I don't know what to make of it," she admitted. Isabella studied the trace report and frowned.

"It said that it's got a chemical compound of graphite, charcoal, lampblack, and powdered acacia," she commented. "And Lycopodium."

"It said it was a contaminated sample when they tried to run it. All the techs were able to get off of it, was that much," Maura explained. Isabella nodded, sliding her finger to check it.

"It's fingerprint dust," she replied. "Did a tech handle the victim's shirt after dusting something else for prints?"

"No, I didn't," Zachary Hunter's voice came from the doorway. "We use the pink powder when we check for prints, it shows up on more."

"Nowadays, labs use aluminum powder," Isabella informed him. "The particles cling to epithelial DNA and raise the ridge detail."

"We also found odd patterns on his clothing, but we can't seem to figure out how to do it," he added. She chuckled in surprise as she raised her eyebrows.

"Did you do a reconstruction?" she asked. The puzzlement on Zachary's face caused her jaw to drop. Back when she had worked in the lab, she had lived to do reconstructions of crime scenes. Especially trying to determine a murder weapon. "Have you ever done a reconstruction?" He shook his head.

"We're going to do a reconstruction right now," she informed him, gesturing him to follow her into the lab. "I will teach you what it means to be a true tech."

* * *

><p>"It's four in the morning," Frankie complained from his seat. "And we're still not done, all because you're getting all profiling on it." He watched Isabella pour over the feed, her eyes glued to the screen.<p>

"We're missing something," she informed him. "When we're done, I'll get you a burger." He rolled his eyes and watched as she rewound it again to watch it for the umpteenth time. Her blue eyes were narrowed, her finger curled over her lips in thought.

"Seriously, we've been over this a million times," he said. "We can give it a go when we've had some sleep." She shook her head, not tearing her concentration away.

"I'm missing something obvious," she insisted. The feed was of the victim's home, a Lester Jones. He had surveillance cameras in his home, and it had taken a federal warrant and several back-flips to get it. Something just outside of the frame had caught the tip of the murder weapon, a butcher knife. The victim came into the screen and Isabella paused it.

"I swear, Izzy, if you pause that one more time to rewind it, I'm going to hurl that computer across the room."

"No, no, no," she said. "I've got it!" He watched as her keys flew across the keyboard. The screen zoomed in on the victim's eye. "I got you now, you son of a bitch."

"What are you doing?" he asked. He had learned long ago to not question her motives, but he couldn't deny his curiosity. Right now, she was getting her CSI on.

"Corneal imaging," she explained. "Something that helped me catch a killer a long time ago." She enhanced the reflection of the victim's eye and sharpened the focus.

The sound of the AV door opening caught Frankie's attention and he looked over his shoulder to see Jane.

"I wanted to talk to you two alone," she said, closing the door. She leaned against it, her dark eyes on Isabella. Frankie's unease grew as his sister's gaze turned to him.

"Yes?" he prompted. Jane's gaze turned from him to Isabella before pulling her phone out of her pocket.

"How long did you two think you could get away with breaking protocol?" she finally asked.

* * *

><p>Isabella fought the rising paranoia as she tucked a lock of dark hair behind her ear.<p>

"What makes you think we're breaking protocol?" she asked innocently. Her paranoia came from the fact that she and her partner were fraternizing, which was a massive no-no. Jane scrolled through her phone before showing her the screen. Frankie and Isabella right by the precinct, in a very compromising position.

"That's what makes me know you are," Jane informed her. "Honestly, how long has this been going on?" Isabella glanced at Frankie, her paranoia evolving into dread. She felt like a reprimanded child instead of an adult.

"It's not completely her fault," he said. Jane held up one finger to shush her younger brother.

"I'll get to you in a minute," she told him. "Right now, I want to hear her explanation." Isabella looked up at her, fighting the urge to shrink back. She wasn't sorry, and she wouldn't tell her she was.

"About a month or so," she replied. "During the Patricia Morris case." There was no use lying about it. Jane had solid evidence to back up her theory. Jane turned to look at Frankie, who nodded.

"Because I am now involved, I have to ask you questions," she said, her expression one of clear discomfort. "Who else knows about this?" Isabella twisted her mouth in thought, drumming her fingers on the glass of the AV desk.

"No one, as far as I know," she replied. She turned her gaze to Frankie as he nodded in agreement. "No one else knows."

"Is your relationship..." Jane trailed off, composing herself for a moment. Her pretty face twisted in a grimace as she forced the words out. "...physical?"

Isabella felt the tips of her ears and her face turn bright red. "Well, this is awkward..." she muttered, before nodding.

"Yeah, you're telling me," Jane replied, her grimace still visible. "Trust me, I really don't want to know, but I have to."

"We didn't tell people for a reason," Isabella said quietly. "Not only because of the no-frat rule, but because I'm a very private person and I don't like people discussing details of something they know absolutely nothing about."

"You didn't want the drama," Jane uttered. Slowly, Isabella and Frankie nodded. Jane sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I really don't want to do this, but I have to."

It was clear that she was conflicted about how to proceed. She watched them intently for a long moment.

Isabella's drumming grew louder on the desk as she watched her partner's sister with impatience. Her breath was in her throat as she awaited the final decision. If Jane went to IAB with it, Isabella and Frankie were both screwed.

"The way I see this, I have two options," Jane finally said. "I can go to Internal Affairs with this, and likely, you both will be on separate shifts until they say you can work together again. One of you might be fired."

"What's your second option?" Frankie asked. Isabella ran her tongue ring across the roof of her mouth, trying her hardest to calm her speeding heart rate.

"I can claim ignorance, delete the photo, and continue letting you two sneak around like this," Jane replied. "Honestly, I'm leaning towards the first option, because I'm a cop before I'm a friend and sister."

Isabella's heart sank and she dropped her gaze to the glass on the desk. "We've maintained a professional front," she offered quietly. "All they'd be doing by firing one of us is just giving us freedom to actually come out as a couple. All they'd be doing by separating our shifts is making it just a little bit harder for us to see each other."

Her gaze lifted to meet Jane's. "And I honestly don't care if they fire me," she said. "I can just as easily find another job, they can only control my career as a cop, not what I am as a human being."

She was sick of people trying to dictate her life. Isabella Reagan Pacino Zuko never let people tell her what to do and she wasn't about to roll onto her back and show her belly in defeat. If this turned out to be something, she was going to prove to them that she was more than just a cop. She was a lone wolf, but she never went down without a fight.

"Do you feel the same way?" Jane asked Frankie. Isabella kept her gaze on Jane, to make sure she didn't pressure him. That was the last thing she wanted to do.

"Isabella may be a quirky, eccentric woman with an unnatural obsession with music, but I honestly can't see myself working alongside anyone else," he said. "She may be completely overqualified for this job, but like she said, we've maintained a professional front. We'll continue to do so. If they make it hard for us to be together because we're partners, we'll just fight harder for it."

"The job kills relationships," Jane reminded them. "You'll be put to the test every single day."

"We've made it this far," Isabella pointed out with a smirk. "If it's supposed to work out, then it'll work out."

"What about if you two split?" Jane challenged. "Can you handle working with your ex?" Isabella stifled a laugh. Oh, if only she knew...

"I think I can manage," she replied. Her gaze slid over to Frankie and her eyebrow arched. "Can you?"

A smirk crossed his features and he chuckled. "Bring it on."


	35. Exhaustion

**_A/N: Okay, so I'm so stressed out right now. But Gorilla tape is the freaking best duct tape of all time. It's strong and weatherproof. Seriously. I had to hold a roll while my brother cut it, it was so hard to get off! The song I picked for this chapter, I can just picture playing in the background during a moment or something..._**

**_RaiN: Sometimes for me, too! Izzy was a CSI, it's only natural that she knows how to do a reconstruction lol. I think Izzy's focus was on Jane, not on Frankie. I wish I had written that, though. I think it would have been the equivalent of 'O.O'. I wanted to kiss him when I wrote that! I was like '8DDD YOU LOVE HER'. I'm so glad you enjoy this, because words cannot describe how much I love writing it! It could be a completely suckish day, but if I write a part of this story (or a oneshot *wink wink*), I get so relaxed. _**

* * *

><p><em>I almost said "I need you"<em>

_Girl, I shouldn't go there anymore_

_I act like I've never been in love before_

_You'd probably think it's my first time_

_Is this what love is all about?_

_Am I getting in too deep?_

_Wouldn't wanna freak you out_

_Make a promise I can't keep_

_So close your eyes and hum along_

_And I'll sing you one more love song_

_If everything is still alright_

_Why don't you just crash here tonight?_

Toby Keith — Crash Here Tonight

* * *

><p>Isabella slammed her head onto her desk, pressing her jacket over her face to muffle her scream. As punishment for her little comment to Sheila, she had to work as a Vice detective for two weeks. So far, her 'boss' made her life miserable.<p>

"Korsak, you like me, right?" she asked once she lifted her head. The older man chuckled, turning to face her.

"Trick question, right, Zuko?" he teased. "But yeah, you're an alright person, even if you can be a bit difficult sometimes."

"Then take my gun and shoot me with it," she begged. "Or hold my jacket over my face until I stop twitching."

"Archer's driving you nuts?" he asked kindly. She nodded vigorously, slamming her head onto her desk repeatedly.

"She's driving me up a fucking wall! I haven't slept in four days!" she complained. "I'm about to crash and burn!" She could have sworn she had seen Chachi running around the bullpen about four times that day.

"Did you know that going seventeen hours without sleep will raise your blood-alcohol level to about zero point seven?" Maura asked from her perch near Frost's desk. Isabella raised her head to glare at her.

"Then I must be fucking wasted right about now," she snapped. "Sleep is my friend, nobody can be around me when I haven't slept." She knew dark circles had long since marred her fair complexion. She looked like complete shit. And the way she was feeling wasn't much better.

"Not like you're much better when you've had a full night's sleep," Jane teased. Isabella's eyes narrowed into tiny slits at her, trying to calm her rising temper.

"If you want to piss me off, Jane, it's working," she informed her. Jane had very reluctantly agreed to keep the relationship a secret, and Isabella was forever in her debt. "If I had no self-control, you would be on the floor and handcuffed to your desk."

"Wow, beauty sleep really is your friend, isn't it?" Jane remarked. Isabella rolled her eyes and stood up. Gravity seemed to be working against her as the carpet whooshed to meet her face. "In more ways than one."

The fatigue nearly overwhelmed her as she struggled back to her feet. Maura helped by gripping the smaller woman's arms and helping her to her feet.

"Okay, go into the cafe and lay down on the couch now," Korsak ordered her. "Archer's your temporary boss, but I'm your superior. She's burning you out and you need to sleep."

"This is gonna sound like a silly question, but can someone help me out there? I can't even walk," Isabella requested in a small voice. Maura looped the other woman's arm around her shoulders, helping her stand.

"I know what to look for. Isabella's physically exhausted, I'm honestly surprised she's made it this long," she explained. Isabella's eyelids felt like cement and Gorilla duct tape were trying to meet and close up as she dragged her body out of the bullpen. Her entire body sagged under the pressure of motor skills as her mind begged for the sweet release of sleep.

"Here, can I get some help?" Maura asked. "Her body's starting to shut down, she's about to crash." The sound of Frost's voice agreeing he'd take her was the last sound Isabella heard before her mind finally shut down.

* * *

><p>Frankie had never seen Isabella so vulnerable as he saw Frost and Maura take her down to the cafe.<p>

"She's been up for four days straight," the other detective said. "Archer ran her till she short-circuited." Frankie shook his head at it. Isabella was usually so full of energy, but seeing her like this had struck him hard.

"Poor woman," he muttered as he lifted her onto the couch. Her dark hair spilled over her face and he tossed the faded green blanket over her petite form. The only thing that concerned him besides her physically and mentally exhausted state was the fact she threatened people while asleep. Then laugh maniacally.

"I'm gonna punch a hole in your head," she mumbled. Frost raised an eyebrow in amusement as he watched her.

"Is she talking in her sleep?" he asked in a low voice. Angela came out of the kitchen, her eyes glazed with concern.

"I told that slave-driver that Isabella needed to sleep," she said, hanging up her apron. "Poor thing, she must be exhausted."

"Four consecutive days awake, I'm surprised she hasn't dropped sooner," Frost commented. "But damn, when she wasn't biting people's heads off, she was a real riot."

"She laughed at Korsak's jokes. That's how we knew she was in some serious trouble," he added. Frankie had been fixing things around his home and with his father for the past few days, he should have known Sheila Archer would drive Isabella into the ground.

"Isabella should remain asleep for a while. Wake her up in about six hours to make sure she gets home," Maura said, looking at the clock. The sound of another laugh from Isabella chilled Frankie to the bone, he wasn't going to lie. "Delirium does that to people, it's her body's way of relaxing and shutting down."

"Scary as hell," Frost commented. "I'm half-expecting her to rise up with a steak knife and say 'Here's Johnny!'"

"Hell, if she rises up while sleeping, I'm going into full zombie-attack mode," Frankie joked. He shook his head at his girlfriend before walking towards the elevators.

There would be some choice words swapped between him and Sheila Archer.

* * *

><p>The first thing Isabella felt through the thick, black haze of sleep was someone shaking her shoulder to wake her up.<p>

"What?" she snapped as her head rose. Her eyelids separated, the blurry figure of Frankie Rizzoli becoming clearer and clearer. "C'mon, I just wanna sleep."

"I know, that's why I'm driving you home," his voice cut through her mind and she moved sluggishly to her feet. He held her hands and helped her up.

"I'm tired," she complained. In an instant, the ground disappeared from underneath her.

"I know you are, that's why I'm taking you to my house so you can sleep," he informed her. Her head swung upwards to meet his eyes, but the stinging ache in her eyes made it impossible. Instead, she settled for nestling closer to the source of heat that kept her safe and warm from the outside world.

"Thanks," she mumbled. Once again, she had drifted off and hadn't known it until she felt herself being moved.

"Can you walk? My neighbors might get the wrong idea if they see me carrying you in," he said. She nodded mutely before staggering after him. Snow had fallen the night before and crunched under her boots as she made her way down the sidewalk. Cold stung her cheeks, causing her to shiver through her thin leather jacket. "Hell, if you're up to waking up sometime tomorrow, you might get to see Cavanaugh rip Archer a new one for running you like this."

If she were anymore awake, she would have chuckled. But because she was only partially awake, she cracked a faint, tired smile. It was times like this that she thanked God Frankie was more than just her partner. She could get used to being taken care of.

She felt something hit her in the chest and she looked down to see a T-shirt in her hands.

"Jane's gonna do a clothing run for you in the morning, I figured you'd want something else to wear besides what you've been wearing the past four days," he explained. Isabella nodded and fumbled with the zipper on her jacket. She heard him sigh exasperatedly as he helped her remove the clothing. There was nothing sexual in his motives, she needed his help. When the baggy, worn blue T-shirt was pulled over her head, she frowned at the worn Red Sox logo.

"Sorry, I'm fresh outta New York sports team tees," he told her, lifting her onto his bed and pulling the covers over her.

"What's next, a bedtime story?" she joked sleepily. She felt his lips on her hair before he shut off the lamp. "G'night."

"G'night, Blue Eyes."

* * *

><p>Frankie Rizzoli Jr was in trouble. There were so many things he hadn't expected to happen to him once he had graduated from the police academy. Like becoming a detective.<p>

Or being partners with a very attractive woman.

Or growing attracted to said attractive woman.

Even worse...

He hadn't expected to fall in love with her. Watching those sleep-glazed blue orbs on his and her exhausted fingers trying to undress herself had hit him like a ton of bricks. He wanted to see that every night. It was one of those things he could easily see.

Isabella was a complex woman, through and through. One minute, she could be serious and down to earth, but the next, she would laugh hysterically for hours at seeing a cloud shaped like a toilet. One minute, she could be pissed off and want to rip someone's head off, the next she would be the bubbliest person anyone could ever meet. Feeling this way scared him. He had never felt like this with anyone in his life. The feelings he thought he had had for Theresa were puppy love. She had strung him along until he thought he couldn't deal. Lola had turned out to be an accomplice to Charles Hoyt, a psychotic serial killer hellbent on killing Jane.

When it came to love and relationships, Frankie wasn't the luckiest guy in the world. But the day he had seen little lost Isabella in the bullpen, he knew his luck was about to change for the better.


	36. We Have Our Scars

**_A/N: I love writing this story *less than three* It's so fun to write..._**

**_RaiN: Yeah, but it's better C: I got to sleep! I stayed up three days straight once, so I know how Izzy feels about it. Granted, she was working during all that time and I was playing Halo, but still. Yes, I loved writing Maura's little part, too. It's actually been proven. I think Izzy feels entitled to be in Jane's debt, because now Jane's career is on the line, too. IAB wouldn't take it too well if they were to be exposed. I'm happy you like it, because I love to write this story..._**

* * *

><p><em>When you feel your soul drop to the floor<em>

_Like a hole, like an open bleeding sore_

_Then you'll have bled like I've bled_

_And you'll have wept as I've wept_

Atreyu — Ex's and Oh's

* * *

><p>Sleep definitely was Isabella's friend as she finally woke up. She strained to read the red digital numbers on the nightstand with a yawn. Eleven am. Isabella bolted upright, rubbing her eyes furiously. This wasn't her room. Blinking awake, her eyes widened. This was Frankie's.<p>

She swung her legs out of the bed, and frowned deeply when she noticed she wasn't wearing any pants. Just a large T-shirt. When she saw the logo, she rolled her eyes. Red Sox.

Where were her clothes? She needed to get dressed and go on home. The sound of laughter came from the kitchen and she poked her head around the corner. On the counter was a grocery bag.

"Mornin', Sleeping Beauty," Jane greeted her. Isabella waved a bit before pulling her dark hair into a messy ponytail. Because of her petite form, the hemline of the shirt came about two inches above her knee. "I hate you, by the way. You eat whatever you want, but you're still tiny."

"I eat what I want in moderation and exercise like a mofo," Isabella told her. "One day a week, I eat something with sugar without worries. Guilt's a trigger for more calorie consumption." She nodded to the bag, tilting her head.

"I got a key to your house from Tommy and got you some clothes," Jane explained. Maura's voice came from the couch.

"Jane almost paired sweats with a tank top, so I helped."

Isabella chuckled and opened the bag. A pair of her nice jeans, an oversize gray thin sweater and a thick tank top underneath. "Thanks," she told them gratefully. Her face reddened when she saw a pair of panties and a bra under the clothing. Damn.

"Yeah, quick question. What grown woman wears cartoon character underwear?" Jane asked. Isabella let out a giggle as she pulled out the light green Tinkerbell bra and matching panties.

"Hey, don't knock 'em," she defended. "They're comfortable."

"You have got to be the weirdest woman I have ever met," Jane declared. Isabella saw her toothbrush under the clothing and let out a sigh of relief.

"Although, it's been proven that women who wear lingerie bras and such under their clothes have more confidence," Maura called. Isabella felt the tips of her ears go bright red and she forced herself to focus on putting her clothes back into the bag.

"They're just joshin' ya," Frankie told her as he set down a plate in front of his sister. Isabella stuck her tongue out at the two women before padding into the bathroom. She tossed the T-shirt on the floor after she shut the door, staring at her complexion in the mirror. God, she looked like hell. Because of the weight she had lost after being attacked a couple of months ago, her ribs were starting to show. The scar that had zigzagged from the left side of her rib-cage to her hip seemed to be that much more apparent. Her lip curled into a grimace at the sight of the ugly flaw on her torso.

She closed her eyes as the memories of that day came flooding back. It was ten years ago today that she had been attacked.

_Damien Collins had been charged with drug possession and aggravated assault. Isabella escorted him to his cell and stood as he dropped his possessions in a box. She narrowed her eyes as he dropped item after item into the cardboard box. _

_"Put your belt in the box, Collins," she instructed, keeping her cap lower. He chuckled and did as he was told. When someone walked by and sneered something at him, Damien had snapped. He lunged at the bars like an animal, trying his best to reach the tormentor. Immediately, Isabella leaped to restrain him. That was when the knife had come out. He shoved the officer backwards, the knife digging into her skin. Pain flared like a white-hot flame in her body as she staggered backwards. The slash came from her hip and upwards. As she hit the ground, her hand immediately went for her weapon. Isabella's shocked fingers gripped the trigger, but her strength soon left her body. Her head hit the cold concrete as consciousness soon left her._

The doctors had said she shouldn't have survived the attack. Her training officer had saved her life after shooting down Damien Collins. Isabella had forgotten the number of stitches it had taken to close the wound. Her eyes opened, the only memento of that day tattooed permanently onto her tender flesh.

Shaking her head, Isabella pulled the tank top over her head and smoothed it over her stomach. She thanked God every day that she had survived such an ordeal. Quickly, she buttoned and zipped the jeans after shimmying them on over her light green Tinkerbell boy-shorts. When she opened the door after brushing her teeth, she heard the two women conversing with Frankie.

"So, you're really going to date a Yankees fan? Talk about being open-minded," Jane commented. Isabella rolled her eyes as she padded back into the kitchen.

"What's wrong with the Yankees? We've been making the Red Sox our bitch for four consecutive seasons," she responded as she set her clothes by her boots. "Who's dating a Yankees fan?"

"Frankie is," Maura spoke up. "We're trying to guess who she is." Isabella stifled a giggle and hopped onto the stool next to Jane. Messing with people was fun, and it was even better when people were in on it.

"Her name's Rae," she lied smoothly, snagging a piece of toast from her boyfriend's plate. "I introduced them a while back."

"Well, where'd you meet her?" Jane snorted. She, of course, knew about the lie. "Let me guess...your bridge club?"

Isabella let out an unladylike scoff. "Nah, where I usually meet people," she responded. "Although, I knew her back in New York and she moved to Boston a while back."

Maura nodded, an air of thinly veiled comprehension on her face. Isabella knew the pretty medical examiner wasn't much for sports, so she wouldn't check in on it. She did hate to lie, but Maura had clearly asked a question too close to home.

"So, where's Rae from?" Maura asked Frankie innocently. Frankie's eyes darted to Isabella, clearly asking her to help.

"She's from Brooklyn," Isabella replied. "Her dad was one of my lieutenants back at the NYPD."

* * *

><p>"Okay, who is Rae?" Jane asked once Maura left. Isabella let out a giggle of sheepishness as she swung her legs from the high stool.<p>

"I panicked," she explained. "Rae is short for 'Reagan'. Reagan is my middle name."

"Nice thinking," Jane approved. "I mean, you're too good of a liar for comfort, but still."

_I've had tons of practice, _Isabella thought to herself, the words nearly slipping from her tongue. Instead, she drummed her fingers on the counter-top.

"I hung around my brother Levi a lot," she said instead. "He was really good with improvisation, could make up stories on the spot. Must have rubbed off on me, I guess."

"How's your stepfather doing?" Frankie asked. Isabella winced visibly, wishing like hell he hadn't asked such a question. She may have been on the long, hard road to forgiveness and working things out with Mitch, but she most definitely was not ready to talk about him.

"Last I heard, he was fine," she replied thinly. Her hand came to rest on her lap and her gaze lowered.

"You doing alright?" Jane asked. Isabella nodded a bit, fidgeting with the ends of her ponytail.

"Today just marks an unfortunate day, that's all," she replied. Her worst fears and insecurities came bubbling to the surface, feeling much older than her thirty-two years. When Frankie opened his mouth to say something, her head snapped up. "Remember that scar on my stomach?"

Slowly, he nodded.

"Ten years ago today, I got that scar."

"What scar?" Jane asked. Isabella turned to face the other woman, rising the hem of her sweater to show the scar.

"That's just part of it," she informed her. She wasn't ashamed of it any longer, it was the worst thing she had ever survived. "I was jumped with a knife as a uniform while I was safeguarding my prisoner." She had been getting ready for her detective's exam.

"Holy shit, that must've been hideous when it was fresh," Jane commented. Isabella snorted before smoothing out her sweater.

"It was," she confirmed. "But we all have our scars, right?"


	37. Of Skating Rinks and Murders

**_A/N: Oh my God, I sincerely apologize for the delay in updates...it turns out that my computer does not have built-in Wi-Fi. But next Tuesday, it is Pay Day, and I'm currently begging my parents to buy a charger for my laptop (which has Wi-Fi built-in.) as well as a new battery. Then, nightly updates will continue as usual. I'm at my sister's house, using her computer, so massive thanks to her! The next update might be coming soon, but who knows? This storyline came to me in a dream a few nights ago, so I hope you all like it! And I found the perfect song for Izzy and Frankie! Look up the song "I Dare You" by SheDaisy.  
><em>**

**_Rain: Ha ha, yes, thank God for Maura Isles! I'm still majorly happy that you still enjoy this story, despite lack of regular updates! I'm majorly hating the no-cable at my sister's house, because I can't watch CSI:NY on Netflix, or on the website, because my Wii treats FanFiction like FFMobile, so it would be like watching it on my phone. Hope you enjoy this chapter!_**

* * *

><p><em>Ain't a pretty-boy-toy, I'll rock you steady<em>

_Rough and ready_

_Well, you are who you are, that's alright with me_

_But I am who I am, that's all I can be_

Trace Adkins — Rough and Ready

* * *

><p>"Victim's name is Victor Jones, he is a whopping twenty-seven years old, and no one saw anything," Officer Ryan said as she flipped her memo book closed. Frankie studied the limp body, laying in a spread-eagle position on his stomach. Isabella bent down next to the body, pressing on lividity with a gloved finger.<p>

"Victim's been dead for less than six hours," she announced. "With the body's position, I'd say it's a dump job." Frankie bent down next to the victim as well, tilting his head to examine it from every angle.

"Where are Jane and Maura?" he asked. Usually, his sister would be there, bossing around the uniforms and wanting to know every detail down to the victim's mother's maiden name. The pretty blonde uniform smirked.

"Didn't Cavanaugh tell you?" she queried. "This is yours and Zuko's case."

"Well, ain't that handy? I wonder who our ME is gonna be," Isabella mused. Ryan coughed.

"It's that new graduate," she replied. When both detectives raised their gazes in surprise, Isabella let out a groan.

"God, you mean the guy that wears those creepy Pee-Wee Herman glasses?" she complained. She rolled her eyes in annoyance before standing up.

"You wear glasses," Frankie pointed out with a dry chuckle. "I don't think you're in a position to make fun of people for wearing them."

"I'm not," she replied impatiently. "He's just-" She was cut off when someone called for a cop. Someone had found another body. Frankie nodded to her before standing up. He was going to track down the other body.

This victim was a woman, lying on her back with her limbs sprawled out. Her golden hair was strewn over her face, shrouding her features. Frankie bent down next to her, patting her pockets with carefully gloved hands, until he could feel a bulge in the back pocket of her jeans. He slid the wallet out and flipped it open. Inside the wallet were cash and credit cards, thus eliminating robbery as a motive. The woman's name was Charlene Jones. He glanced at her left hand, where a thin tan line was etched onto her marriage finger. She was Victor's wife.

"Hey, Frankie, Victor's married!" he heard Isabella call out. He set down the wallet before standing up.

"To the female victim over here!" Frankie called back. Isabella's petite body stood at the top of the hill and he could see her hands coming to rest on her hips.

"We got our work cut out for us, don't we?" she stated.

* * *

><p>Frankie wasn't sure what was worse. The fact that they were completely on their own for the first time with a double homicide, or the fact that Jameson Welch, the ME, had decided that Isabella was his new gal pal. He wasn't the ME that she had feared it was. He was around their age, with ruggedly handsome qualities. And he had poured it on thick with Isabella, constantly calling her 'Miss Isabella'. Damn his Southern upbringing.<p>

"You're awfully quiet," Isabella commented in the department-issued Buick. Frankie shook his head.

"It's nothing," he dismissed it. He vaguely felt his shoulder being shoved as she scoffed.

"You got somethin' on your mind," she informed him. "Talk to me, Bruins." Her nickname for him, a way of teasing him about his favorite hockey team, the Boston Bruins. She, of course, favored the New York Rangers.

"Our first big case," he admitted. That was only part of it. Isabella had gotten jealous over the women who she had said 'flirted' with him. Jealous Isabella was cute, but now he could see why she would deny the appeal of jealousy to significant others. Sitting there the entire time, not saying a word while Jameson Welch poured his Southern charm on his girlfriend. He could only imagine her discomfort when Theresa or Sheila would drop by.

"That's only part of it." Damn her perceptive nature.

"Yeah," he finally conceded. "I now sort of wish it was the ME who pisses you off." He was careful to keep his eyes on the road, instead of his partner. Frankie could almost hear the gears turning in her head as his words sunk in.

"Oh," she said softly. Frankie turned the car down the street, thankful he pulled up to the skate rink where Victor Jones worked. The couple had owned the shady establishment for about three years into their nine-year marriage. They had a two-month old infant, who was in the custody of CPS. A baby girl named Gabriella. "We'll talk after this."

He held the door open for her, closing it behind them. An older man looked up at them from his horn-rimmed glasses.

"Ten bucks, plus skate rentals," he informed them. Frankie unclipped his badge from his belt, showing it to him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Isabella raising her from the beaded chain around her neck. "Uh, go right on in."

Isabella flashed him a smile at him before walking inside. It was much too cold inside for it to be a roller-skating rink, but it was just cold enough to be an ice-skating rink. The lights were lower and Frankie had to squint to adjust his eyes to the darkness.

"There is no way that this is a functioning ice rink," he heard Isabella mutter next to him. He nodded in agreement before clipping his badge back to his belt. "It's way too dark in here."

"That's because we're on break," a female voice informed them. Frankie looked over his shoulder and saw a tall, blonde woman staring back at him with expectant blue eyes. He was momentarily shocked by the startling similarities between this woman and Charlene Jones. "I'm Noreen Di Laurentis, one of the managers at this establishment."

"I'm Detective Isabella Zuko, this is Detective Frankie Rizzoli. We're Boston Homicide," Isabella introduced them, holding up her badge. She pulled a photo out of her coat pocket, handing it to Noreen.

Noreen gasped at the autopsied photo of Charlene. "That's Charlene Jones!" she whispered as tears trickled down her face. "That's my sister."

"We're very sorry for your loss, ma'am," Frankie said. "Can you tell me when the last time you saw your sister was?" Jameson Welch had timed the TOD to be around four am. Isabella and Frankie had appeared on scene four hours later.

"I saw her last night for dinner," Noreen replied, her gaze fixated on the photo. "What's Victor gonna say?"

After a moment, Isabella spoke up. "We appeared on scene to his body first," she informed her. Noreen's tears continued to fall as a sob wracked her body.

"Poor Gabriella," she sobbed. "Where is she?"

"She's currently with Child Protective Services," Frankie replied. He nodded for Isabella to return the photo back into her pocket. "Can you think of anyone who might want to harm either Charlene or Victor?"

Noreen was quiet for a moment, clearly in thought. "Yeah, actually," she replied. "Victor and Charlene had been having problems with one of the workers here, Paulie hadn't been sharpening the blades on the skates properly, and they were thinking that he was stealing money from them."

Frankie jotted it down in his memo pad. "And can you tell us Paulie's last name?" he asked. Noreen nodded.

"Paulie Josephson," she replied.

"Where were you this morning around four am?" Isabella asked, her tone flat and blunt. Frankie's head snapped to face her.

"Isabella," he muttered warningly. "She just lost her sister."

"It's a valid question," she pointed out. Noreen stuck out her chin.

"I was at my boyfriend's house," she replied. "Awake."

"What's your boyfriend's name?" Isabella asked, her gaze lifting to meet Noreen's.

"He's right out in the ticket area," Noreen replied.

* * *

><p>"Well, that got us a fat-load of nothing!" Isabella growled as she rested her head against the steering wheel.<p>

"You were way out of line back there," Frankie informed her. Isabella's head lifted and she narrowed her eyes at him.

"Well, one of us needed to ask the question," she quipped. "Clearly, it wasn't you." The sound of her phone ringing cut the conversation short and she pressed the green phone icon on the screen to answer. "Zuko."

_"Hey, Miss Isabella, it's Jameson," _a male voice replied. The ME.

"What can I do for you?" she asked, her snappy voice becoming more professional.

_"I think I may have found a clue to the murder weapon," he replied. "Some kind of high-powered saw." _Isabella tilted her head as she chewed over his words.

"Was there any trace in the wounds?" she asked.

_"Yes, and it's consistent with carbon steel," he replied. "I found it very unusual." _

"Any prints?" she asked.

_"Yes," he replied. "A Paulie Josephson."_


	38. Race Against Time

_**A/N: Oh, would you look at that? I got to update again! 8D**_

_**Rain: I know, I feel perfectly dreadful about leaving you in such a lurch like that! I'm happy you still love this story C:**_

* * *

><p><em>"No time for goodbye," he said<em>

_As he faded away_

_"Don't put your life in someone's hands_

_They're bound to steal it away_

_Don't hide your mistakes 'cause they'll find you, burn you"_

_Then he said "If you want to get out alive_

_Ooh, run for your life"_

Three Days Grace — Get Out Alive

* * *

><p>Isabella tapped her finger on her forearm while she waited in line at the cafe in the precinct. Good Lord, this was taking forever.<p>

"Detective Zuko," a detective from Narcotics addressed her in greeting as she walked by. Isabella nodded in response. It had been nearly twenty minutes since she had walked through the door, and it was just now her turn.

"Hey, Iz, we gotta lead," Frankie said as he poked his head in. Isabella let out a groan, tossing her head back.

"I'll meet you at the car in five minutes," she told him. "I've waited this damn long to get food, I'm gonna order it and pick it up." He chuckled and poked his head out. Angela watched the exchange with curious eyes.

"I think he likes you," she confided in a whisper. Isabella's turn to chuckle. _Lady, if you knew..._

But now she didn't know what else to say. She merely smiled and nodded to Angela before ordering her usual for lunch. A turkey club sandwich with American cheese, light mayo, spicy brown mustard, and banana peppers. A bag of Doritos and a Diet Pepsi to go.

Of course, Frankie would eventually rib her for putting chips in her sandwich, like he usually did. The thought caused Isabella to roll her eyes and laugh. Despite his constant teasing, she would simply tell him that whatever sports teams he preferred were inferior. Or burst his bubble that none of the Lakers cheerleaders would ever sleep with him.

To which, he would reply: "Why sleep with a cheerleader? I've got the hottest cop to do that with."

_Damn him, _Isabella thought grudgingly. She sighed as she carried the bag containing her food to the car.

"What, are you going to put chips in your sandwich again?" Frankie teased once she buckled her seat-belt. And...there it was.

"Bruins, the Mets are gonna make the Pilgrims their bitch again," she merely replied and took a big bite of her sandwich. She had trained her partner long ago that unless she said otherwise, he'd better not touch her food. Isabella Reagan Pacino Zuko did not share.

"Is that always your answer when I tease you?" he asked. Her eyes rolled again as she chewed.

"Basically," she responded after she swallowed. "Yet, you still make fun of me for putting chips in my sandwich. I'll bet you're jealous you didn't think of it first."

Frankie laughed and started the car. "Can I at least have the leftover chips?" he asked. "I haven't eaten."

Temporary guilt washed over her like a wave as she glanced at him. "I would've gotten you somethin' if I knew that," she told him. She tossed him the leftover Doritos.

"You honestly think my mother would let me walk out of that precinct if she knew I hadn't eaten?" he asked rhetorically. She giggled and turned her attention out the window.

"Yeah, always depend on your mother," she teased. "And that new rape detective."

"Hey, she at least gives me a little attention," he joked. Isabella gave an unladylike snort.

"Ever hear of that dirty little word called '_discretion'_?" she scoffed. "Trust me, if I had it my way, the ladies there would know who your real girlfriend is." And the jealousy thing never worked before...why would it now?

"Let's just face it, Blue Eyes," Frankie told her. "We both get jealous easily." She looked over at him and raised her eyebrow in surprise.

"When do you ever get jealous?" she asked curiously. "Besides Don." From his silence, she knew he didn't want to say. "Because I've gotten jealous over Theresa, over-"

"You have nothing to worry about with Theresa," he told her quickly. "Trust me, that's beyond ancient history."

His words made her feel slightly better.

"That new ME," he said quietly. "Jameson Smucker or whoever the hell he is." The name surprised her and Isabella arched an eyebrow.

"Jameson Welch?" she offered. He snapped his fingers and nodded. "Well, there's one thing you have that he doesn't."

"What's that?"

A smile spread across her pretty face.

"A cute little homicide detective with a witty sense of humor and a charming personality as both a partner and a lover," she replied with an innocent smile and a flutter of her eyelashes.

"Remind me again why I put up with you?" Frankie asked. Isabella giggled.

"Face it, babe, your life would be dull as hell without me," she answered.

* * *

><p>"Paulie Josephson, Boston PD. We have some questions for you," Frankie called. Isabella hesitated before knocking again, louder this time. She knew better than to press her ear against the door. They stood outside the condominium.<p>

The sound of a gun being cocked caught her attention.

"Isabella, get down!" Frankie ordered. Right after he uttered the command, the piercing cracks of gunfire filled the air. It felt like the ground was scooped up from under her as Isabella was lifted upwards. Her back collided with the hard wall, her breathing coming out in ragged, whimper-like gasps. If he hadn't grabbed her out of the way...

She shuddered to think of the alternative.

Quietly, she pulled her gun from its holster on her hip and flicked the safety off with her thumb. When she knocked on the door again, more gunfire sounded. She took cover before nodding to him.

"Call backup," she mouthed. "We'll take cover until they show." They nodded and Isabella took cover on the other side of the wall. Large chunks of wood had been taken out of the door, giving them a slight visual.

Isabella's heart crashed in her chest, palpitating wildly behind her ribcage. She could barely hear sirens in the distance. Backup was on its way. The sound of ragged gasps opposite her perked her ears. Isabella turned her head and saw Frankie holding his bicep. When he met her worried gaze, he shook his head,

"Just a graze," he mouthed to her. She nodded and turned her head towards the door. Her boot crushed a twig, causing more gunfire. When the squad cars pulled up, she took a Kevlar, cinching it around her waist. This was one case she had to do by the book. She knew she wasn't supposed to engage the suspect alone.

"Any casualties?" Korsak asked. Isabella shook her head.

"Frankie was grazed, but that was it," she replied. "I didn't fire my weapon, neither did he."

The sound of more gunfire as they approached the door nearly deafened her as she took fire. Splintering wood, breakables, and the agonized scream of a man greeted her as the door was kicked down. When Isabella pointed the gun at the man's head, she looked at the picture. Paulie Josephson was not the man laying shot on the ground.

"Where's Paulie Josephson?" she asked, kicking the shotgun out of his reach. "Who are you?"

The man glared defiantly at her. "I'm not supposed to talk to cops," he retorted. Isabella smirked.

"Fine," she replied. "I guess I'll talk to your boss, then." When his face clouded with horror, sick satisfaction flowed through her. Thanks to Levi, she knew most of the Mafia community in the big cities, like New York and Boston. The man lying on the ground was Russian. From the tattoos on his neck, she knew it was of the Volki Tselostnosti, or 'Wolves of Integrity'.

"He's at the bridge on the north end of town," the man finally said. "He's trying to run."

* * *

><p>Isabella slammed her foot on the gas pedal, trying her hardest to weave through traffic towards the north end. Finally, she turned on the siren and watched the parting of the Red Sea. Frankie had a couple of stitches, nothing too major.<p>

"God, you drive like a maniac!" Korsak bellowed as Isabella weaved the Buick through traffic. Her eyes remained fixed on her target as the needle on the speedometer leaned far to the right, brushing ninety miles an hour.

It was a race against time as the red Ford pickup came into view. Isabella let her foot off the gas and coasted behind him. She knew he knew she was a cop. This was one case she wanted to see through.

It was hers.


	39. Little Sisters Equal Big Trouble

**_A/N: Okay, so I'm officially addicted to the show 'Storage War$'. It's freaking awesome! But until another line comes, this is being done from Teagan's point of view. You'll see why ;D  
><em>**

**_Rain: I know, I tend to make people's week lol ;D I'm thinking about writing another Frankie/OC story with a new OC, because when I wrote this one, I just added Isabella because I was in a block to make up another character. But now, I have made another character. You'll see what her name is ;D_**

* * *

><p><em>She was the youngest of the family<em>

_And the last to be let go_

Panic! At the Disco — Memories

* * *

><p>With trembling fingers, Teagan gripped the handle of the door to the Boston Police Department, her other hand coming to rest on her rounded stomach. Panic and desperation threatened to overcome her as she felt a tiny little kick. Reassuring her that she wasn't alone.<p>

She was coming to see Isabella. After being kicked out because of the baby, Teagan had nowhere else to go. Her father had told her to figure it out, she was too old to be living at home. Isabella and Evangeline were hers and the baby's last hope.

"Can I get your name, please?" a tall uniformed officer said outside of the metal detector. His dark eyes set on her, looking her over. They were cold, like staring into a black hole.

"Teagan Doyle," Teagan replied in a small voice. "I'm here to see Detective Isabella Pacino." Officer Black Hole's eyes narrowed.

"There's no one here by that name," he snapped. The icy, cold grip of fear slithered up her spine. What name was Isabella using? Teagan found it unlikely that her sister would use her married name.

"I need to see her," she said. The sound of the door opening caught Teagan's attention and a tall, dark-haired man walked in. "Will you let me in?"

"There's no one here by that name!" Black Hole repeated. The man behind Teagan held up his hand.

"Who are you looking for?" he asked her. His eyes were warm, seemingly wanting to help. Teagan fought to keep her trembling voice still and tightened her dark ponytail. Her baby blue eyes met his and she forced herself to speak.

"Isabella Pacino. I know she works here-" she started to say, but the man cut her off.

"She's here to see Zuko," he told Black Hole. "Let her in." So Isabella was using her married name.

"Zuko ain't expecting her," Black Hole argued. "She would've told me." The helpful man patted Teagan's shoulder.

"I'll sign for her," he offered. He turned to look at her. "What's your name?"

"Teagan Doyle," she replied. When the other man's eyes tightened, the fear soured and grew until it threatened to overtake her.

"Give her the visitor's badge," he told him. When the door was finally open, Teagan's eyes scanned the room to find her sister. When her baby blue eyes rested on the familiar form, they filled with relieved tears.

"Izzy Rae!" she called. Immediately, her sister's head lifted. Without waiting to be acknowledged, Teagan ran to the sanctuary of Isabella's arms. Sobs wracked her petite body as she clung tightly to her.

"Teagan, what the hell are you doing here?" Isabella asked, bewildered. "Not that I'm not happy to see you..." The man who helped her looked down at her.

"You know her, Iz?" he asked. Isabella's arms were reassuring as she stroked Teagan's hair and rubbed her back soothingly.

"This is my little sister," she answered. Teagan felt Isabella kiss her temple. "What's wrong, Teags?"

Teagan pulled away, wiping her eyes. "I had nowhere else to go," she sniffled. Isabella followed her gaze to her stomach and murmured an "Oh, Teags."

"Baby's father?" she prompted. Teagan shrank down, knowing her older sister would be upset. It was Dean Moriarti, the very man Isabella had warned her about. He was a gang member, trying to get an in with the Mob.

"Dean," she said in a tiny voice. Isabella pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. She drew Teagan back into her arms again and rubbed her back.

"Mom and Mitch?" she asked. Memories of it flooded back to her mind and she curled her pregnant body closer to her.

"They said they wouldn't help me. I'm too old to be living at home," she replied, sniffling again as tears trickled down her cheeks. "I'm scared, Izzy, I got nowhere left to go."

"You came to the right place," Isabella told her. "You got your degree, didn't you?" Teagan nodded.

"But who's going to hire a pregnant tech?" she asked, tucking a lock of dark hair behind her ear. It was hopeless.

"I got your back, Teags," Isabella assured her. "Don't you worry."

* * *

><p>Seeing her pregnant little sister in such dire straits killed Isabella on the inside. Especially when her scumbag ex-boyfriend threw her out. Isabella muttered curses under her breath to Dean. She would take care of him when the time came.<p>

"So, Teagan's your sister?" Frankie asked. Isabella nodded.

"Half," she replied. "Mitch is her dad."

"You're half-Italian, aren't you?" he asked Isabella chuckled with a nod and leaned against him. Evangeline had eagerly taken Teagan in and they were shopping.

"And half-Irish," she finished. "My mother's full Irish, she moved to America from Belfast about thirty-seven years ago. Had Levi a year later, then Evan two years after that." Isabella had met her father twice in her entire life. Because of his Mafia ties, it was too dangerous for him to be a permanent fixture in her life. He had never missed a holiday, anything he could try to make up for what he had done. She knew her father's side of the family without knowing him.

"But out of your mom's kids, you're my favorite," Frankie told her. She strained up to kiss him, nuzzling his neck.

"Same goes for you," she replied. He snorted.

"Yeah, right, I think Jane's your favorite," he argued playfully. She giggled and kissed the soft skin of his neck. And there was that cute little clicking sound he made in his throat. It was her favorite spot.

"I like Jane, but you're my favorite," she informed him. He pulled her onto his lap, kissing her again. Luckily, they were at his place. Away from wandering eyes. She knew Jane was stopping by later, so it gave them alone time. Something they both wanted. "How's your arm?"

He pulled up the sleeve of his shirt to show the bandage. "It's healing pretty well. Soon, I may be able to do heavy lifting again," he replied. Feeling devilish, she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Oh really?" she asked. Her lips traced little patterns on his neck and she fought a giggle as the clicking continued. "What kind?"

"The kind that lets me pick up women about your weight to keep them from doing that to me," he answered, covering her mouth with his.

* * *

><p>Isabella set down the last of the shopping bags in her living room. Thanks to the foldout couch and new bedding, Teagan had her own little room in the living room. Chachi had taken the role as protector seriously; no one was allowed to touch Teagan's belly without his express permission and supervision.<p>

"As soon as I'm able, Izzy, I'll find my own place," Teagan told her as she sat down on the foldout bed. Her petite body was clad in a pair of gray plaid pajama pants and a white T-shirt, the material stretching over her rounded stomach.

"Don't worry about it till the time comes," Isabella assured her. She curled her legs under herself, resting her folded hands on her knees. She wore a pair of black and silver plaid pajama shorts and a black T-shirt, her hair tied back in a messy ponytail. "It's nice to not have quiet all the time."

"I'm really scared," Teagan said. Isabella reached over from the big armchair to pat her sister's hand.

"That's how you know you're gonna be fine," she replied. Seeing her sister pregnant was something she needed to get used to. Teagan was about four months along, it wasn't uncommon for first-timers to show much later on. Evangeline hadn't shown with James until about five months.

"I really appreciate you and Evan takin' me in like this," Teagan said gratefully. Chachi was curled up on the bed, his eyes tightly closed.

"Don't worry about it," Isabella said with a wave of her hand. "I'm just not gonna be the greatest company. I work tomorrow until seven. The only thing you have to worry about, is Tommy Rizzoli coming over to pick up Chachi. He's a nice guy, he won't bother you any. Just tell him the check's on the fridge and he'll be out of your way."

Fatigue washed over her and she yawned, covering her mouth. "But anyways, just turn off the TV when you get tired. I gotta go on to bed."

"Love you, Izzy Rae," Teagan called as she turned off the lamp. Isabella smiled at her little sister over her shoulder before shutting off the hall light.

"Love you most, Teags Marie," she replied.


	40. The World Keeps Turning

**_A/N: So, I got my cord today, and this is being typed up on my laptop! HOORAY! Bad news is, I forgot my password to my account. So, here I am, on the guest account...e.e not as good, but hey, I can't complain. After nine months using my virus-ridden desktop, my perfectly good laptop is back in action! SAY HELLO TO NIGHT UPDATES! I found songs that remind me of Frankie's songs to Theresa...look up the songs_**

**"_Bitch Came Back" by Theory of a Deadman_**

**_"Country Song" by Seether_**

**_"Grenade" by Bruno Mars_**

**_Short chapter tonight, tomorrow's should be longer._  
><strong>

**_Rain: Yes, it's fabulous, isn't it? I thought the officer should be a jerk, and give Teagan a hard time lol. I thought you would like that little Frankie/Izzy scene, so I'm glad you liked it. Thanks for another AMAZING review!_**

* * *

><p><em>Late at night when all the world is sleeping<em>

_I stay up and think of you_

_And I still can't believe you came up to me _

_And sad "I love you"_

_I love you, too_

Selena - Dreaming of You

* * *

><p>The joint case in Detroit called Frankie away for God knew how long. He felt the couch move slightly under him as Isabella's weight sank onto it. Her lithe body slid into the crook of his body, her head coming to rest on his shoulder.<p>

"I'll miss you," she murmured. He could smell the scent of her shampoo as she nestled closer. Frankie kissed her temple, his arm cradling her.

"I'll miss you, too," he replied. Isabella sighed and lifted her head. Her baby blue eyes were soft with sorrow. "But I'm just in Detroit, not like I'm in LA."

No amusement, not even a forced chuckle. His lips touched hers gently and he cupped her face in his hands.

"I will call you every night that I'm gone," he promised. He watched her blink, her dark eyelashes brushing her skin. "Alright?"

Her lips brushed against his. "You'd better," she threatened lightly. There was the flicker of humor in her blue eyes he was looking for.

His thumbs caressed her cheekbones. "Don't worry, Blue Eyes," he told her. "I'm gonna go get Paulie Josephson and we're gonna lock that son of a bitch up for double homicide."

He nearly collapsed on top of Isabella as he felt a heavy weight shove onto his back. Frankie turned around and saw Chachi, Isabella's Rottweiler, stretching out. Damn dog was massive and weighed more than Isabella. How someone so small and delicate-looking could handle a monster like Chachi was vastly beyond Frankie's level of understanding.

"Chachi, get off the couch," Isabella ordered, snapping and pointing to the floor. The dog seemed to glower at Frankie as he lumbered off the couch.

_"I was here first," _he seemed to be saying. He shook his pelt as if to make a point and padded into the bedroom. Isabella rolled her eyes.

"That dog has too much attitude," she said. "I have no idea where he gets it."

Frankie pulled her onto his chest, one hand on the small of her back and the other curled around her knee. He waited for the telltale sign of her comfort, a sigh and cuddle closer.

"I hate cuddling," she finally declared. "Why did you turn me into a cuddler?"

He kissed her forehead, caressing the joint of her knee with his thumb. "Because I'm slowly growing on you," he replied. "And face it, you're whipped."

Isabella scoffed, moving her raven hair out of her face. "Ha! Yeah, right," she disagreed. "If anyone's whipped, it's you."

Frankie laughed gently, watching the frown knit between her eyebrows.

"Jerk-face," she insulted, sticking her tongue out. Wordlessly, he kissed her hard. She let out a squeal as he gripped her waist.

"Wow, I kiss a girl and she squeals? I've never had that kind of impression before," he joked. She slapped his shoulder.

"I hate you," she growled. He waited until she relaxed before squeezing the joint of her knee tightly, a move he knew she hated. "Frankie! I'm gonna kill you!"

"No, you're not," he told her. An incredulous look crossed her features as she arched an eyebrow.

"And why's that?" she asked. Her facial expression was so humorous, Frankie couldn't help but to laugh.

"Because," he responded. "If you were going to, you would have done it already." She brushed her hair out of her face and giggled, her eyes rolling.

"You seriously underestimate me," she informed him. Isabella sat up and fixed her shirt, pulling her hair away again. "However, since I can't kill you..."

If there were any times Frankie had called his girlfriend delicate and featherweight, Isabella Reagan Pacino proved him wrong. Five-foot-two and hundred and some odd pounds Isabella gave a shove with her leg and Frankie tumbled off the couch. He landed on his back, dazed momentarily.

Did she really do that?

He poked his head up and saw her smile smugly down at him.

"Met your match, didn't you?"

* * *

><p>Isabella sat on her window sill, watching the sky. Teagan was asleep in the living room, doing her freight train impression.<p>

"Damn you, Frankie," she muttered. She raked a hand through her hair as his words from this morning rang in her head.

_I love you..._

Damn him...because he was right. He had her down pat.

And dammit, if she didn't love him, too. Isabella glanced over her shoulder as her phone rang. Another case, another homicide...

The world would keep on turning, people would keep on killing, and life went on. With or without Frankie in Boston.


	41. Separation Anxiety

_**A/N: Okay, so this chapter should be longer...**_

_**Favorite conversation about Thanksgiving...done today between me and my best friend, Alyssa...  
><strong>_

_**My BFF: EM EM EM EM EM EM EM EM!**_

_**Me: What?**_

_**My BFF: THANKSGIVING IS ON THE 24th OF NOVEMBER**_

_**Me: I wish my birthday fell on Thanksgiving...a ton of food and presents...that'd be awesome**_

_**My BFF: Yeah...sucks for you. September's over**_

_**Me: SEPTEMBER'S OVER? OH DAMN**_

_**My BFF: Why? **_

_**Me: I FORGOT TO WAKE UP GREEN DAY**_

_**But anyways, we laughed for a good ten minutes over it...and my dad's pretty sure I'm demented. He's watching the movie 'Exit Wound' and I was watching a funny clip of "Boy Meets World" on YouTube, so on the movie, when the shooting and killing started, I'm laughing my head off. **_

_**Rain: And also, because there are so many rooms in my sister's house, I can most likely do more than one chapter a night. Keep your peepers open, my friend! And yes, I hated to break them apart for a little while, but it needed to be done. It's good for them to be apart, you'll see ;D It may be good for an M-rated oneshot for when he comes back...I'm glad you still like this!  
><strong>_

* * *

><p><em>And in the limelight, I play it off fine<em>

_But I can't handle it when I turn off my night light_

_They say that true love hurts_

_Well, this could almost kill me_

Ke$ha - The Harold Song

* * *

><p>Nearly a month and a half since Frankie was off chasing Paulie Josephson in Detroit. Isabella had talked to him last night, nothing had changed. Paulie Josephson had been spotted all over Detroit, but was otherwise a ghost.<p>

_"I'm gonna comb Detroit to find him if I have to," _he'd said. The case Isabella had been working on had been long solved. She and Frost were on a case currently, where the CEO of a freezer manufacturing company had been murdered.

"You alright, Zuko?" she vaguely heard Frost ask. Isabella looked over at him and blew her bangs out of her face.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she replied, trying to keep her voice light. On the outside, yes, she was fine. On the inside, however, she was not. Only Jane knew that, though. The absence of Frankie Rizzoli was one everyone could feel. He had been a major fixture on the team for so long, not having him there was bound to leave its mark.

"I think I know what you need," Frost told her. Isabella turned her head to face him and raised a quizzical eyebrow. "You need to chase down this guy and take him down with brute force."

She chuckled and shook her head. Of course, violence would ease her frustration. Maura had teased her about her hair-twirling and ice-crunching.

_"Symptoms of sexual frustration." _

Isabella played with her tongue ring, running the stud over the roof of her mouth and around her teeth. Jane had teased her, saying she needed to get laid sometime soon.

The car pulled up and they slid out. Wintry January wind immediately greeted her and she tightened the cinch on her black pea-coat tighter. Her baby blue boots crunched in the snow as she tried to trudge through it the best she could. The poorly-shoveled snow in front of the building was proving to be difficult for someone as...'vertically challenged' as herself. Frost held out his hand.

"Need some help?" he asked with a laugh. Isabella frowned stubbornly.

"I can do it," she insisted. Yet, when she found herself nearly ass-high in snow, she sighed. Wordlessly, she accepted his gloved hand in hers and she made her way out. "Tell anyone and I'll kidney-punch you."

"Damn, that was going to go in my journal, too," he teased. She rolled her eyes and stomped the snow from her boots. Her jeans were soaked with melted snow, all the way to her ass. Goosebumps broke out on her skin as a grimace crossed her features. Her head snapped up as she heard him snicker.

"Shut it, Giggles," she snapped as she brushed off stray flakes. The cold stung her cheeks and her teeth chattered. "Cazzo neve." [Fucking snow]

"You gotta see the humor in this," he chuckled. Isabella gave him a steely glare.

"I fail to," she retorted. She shook out her leg, wrenching open the door.

But, of course, the violence Frost had so light-heartedly hoped for didn't happen. The suspect came willingly. Isabella stood in the women's locker room, pulling off her wet boots and wet socks, tossing them into a grocery bag. Next step was getting off those wet jeans.

It took a minute for her to unbuckle her belt and pull it out of the loops, before unbuttoning the medium-wash denim skinny jeans. The wet material clung to her thighs like a second skin and goosebumps raised on her flesh like scales. After pulling on a fresh, dry pair of jeans, she found another pair of socks and pulled them on before putting her boots back on. She was freezing cold and she longed for her blanket.

Teeth chattering, she made her way back to the bullpen.

"Did you fall in any snow on your way back?" she heard Korsak tease. Isabella tried her best to ignore him as she sat back in her chair.

"Yankees kicked the Sox's ass last night," she merely said. "Because the Red Sox suck. Mets can still own the Pilgrims and make them their pretty little girlfriends."

"Uncalled for, Zuko," he replied. She smiled in response before crossing her legs. It was going to be a long day.

* * *

><p>Frankie's foot collided with the door to a warehouse as he pointed his weapon in the still darkness.<p>

"Police!" he yelled. "Nobody move!"

"Detroit PD!" more yells resonated throughout. Flashlights dimly lit the room and Frankie took a step in. Calls of 'clear!' sounded through and he let out an aggravated growl.

"You alright, Boston?" Julie Arnold, the lead Detroit homicide detective asked. He nodded mutely before holstering his weapon. Frankie clenched his fists and looked around the empty warehouse.

"Paulie Josephson is going to get hell rained on him when I track him down," he growled. He wanted to be back in Boston, where his family was. Where his job and his life was.

He was sick of Detroit. It held no interest for him, he couldn't wait to go home. He wanted to be with Isabella. Phone calls, e-mails, and text messages weren't enough anymore. It had been nearly a month and a half since he had last laid eyes on her. Night was going to fall soon, the squad would have to turn in and recount the tips that came through. If two tips appeared consistent, they went for it.

It was as if Paulie dangled a T-bone in front of hungry wolves, daring them to chase him. Frankie wanted this son of a bitch so badly, he could taste the longing in his mouth. He ached to hear the sound of the handcuffs cinching onto Paulie's wrists.

When he set foot in his hotel, he pulled out his cellphone. Time to keep good on his promise.

_"Isabella Zuko, sex goddess extraordinaire," _his girlfriend's lazy Queens-accented voice came over the line. Frankie had to chuckle, relishing the sound of her voice.

"Better not be one for anyone but me, Blue Eyes," he commented. "I don't share."

_"Damn, I guess I'd better break that date with Frost," _she teased.

"I wish I was home right now," he sighed. "Detroit's depressing." The sound of her musical giggle caused his heart to ache that much more.

_"I wish you were home, too," _she said. _"Because honestly, if I hear one more joke about me being sexually pissed off, I'm gonna slug someone." _His chuckle grew into a laugh as he could picture her irritation.

"Sexually frustrated, are we, detective?" his turn to tease. He heard her scoff.

_"Yeah, right," _she snorted. He missed this sassy woman. _"Keep in mind, you've spoiled me." _

"Yeah, you're right, I've turned you into my own little personal nympho," he joked.

_"Oh, really? Is that why nine times out of ten, _you're _the one begging _me_?" _she said. _"And I caught that short joke. I'm not that little!"_

"Hon, you're five-foot-two and you're probably one hundred and five pounds soaking wet," he reminded her. "You still can't ride all of the rides at the fair."

_"Fuck you," _she said with a laugh. _"And that's not an offer."_

He glanced at his clock on the nightstand. Midnight.

"I gotta get up at the ass-crack of dawn to keep finding that one guy," he said.

_"So, basically, you left me for a man in Detroit," _she muttered. A hysterical laugh escaped him. _"Yeah, I didn't see that coming." _

"But, when I get back...I think you and I can come up with a little something to do," he said. She let out a giggle.

_"Now who's sexually frustrated?" _she teased. _"But let me know when you catch that bastard. I swear, I should've shot his tires."_

"I miss you," he said.

_"Miss you, too," _she replied. He hung up the phone, the separation growing more and more restless for him.


	42. Missing You

**_A/N: Eee...I'm so happy! 8D I woke up in a good mood, I am ready to rock your socks with updates! Short chapter tonight.  
><em>**

**_Rain: It's kind of like in the military. They're away for their family for months on end...sometimes, even years. I can't wait to write the homecoming, though...Isabella's little homecoming (M-rated oneshot ;D) is in the works. They both need a lotta lovin', so I can't wait till they're together again! You'll get your update tonight and possibly another tomorrow..._**

* * *

><p><em>When you're gone<em>

_The pieces of my heart are missing you_

_When you're gone_

_The face I came to know is missing, too_

_And when you're gone_

_The words I need to hear to always get me through the day_

_And make it okay_

_"I miss you"  
><em>

Avril Lavigne - When You're Gone

* * *

><p>"Cavanaugh's trying to force us to going to the FBI fundraiser thing," Isabella complained, sitting down on her desk. "The FBI wants to show off for the public and mayor by being all buddy-buddy with the Boston PD. They only speak two languages: bullshit and arrogance."<p>

Jane snorted. "Isn't your sister an FBI agent?" she pointed out. Isabella raised an eyebrow and met her gaze.

"So? All of my siblings speak fluent bullshit," she retorted. "It's an art."

"What are you gonna wear?" Jane asked. "'Cause I'm honestly depending on Maura for it." Isabella let out a laugh.

"My sisters are fighting over who gets to pick out my dress for it, but I'm gonna wear something to piss everyone off."

"You're going to dress conservatively," Archer sneered as she walked by. "We need to make the police department look good."

Isabella rolled her eyes. "Okay, if she wants me to dress conservatively, she can kiss my ass," she muttered. There was no one Isabella held more contempt for than Sheila Archer.

She already had the perfect dress in mind. Something she had worn to the NYPD ball once upon a time. A strapless red sequined evening dress that hugged every curve of her body, flaring out at the thighs with a slit up the side. It was floor-length, but she had had it tailored for petite floor-length. It knocked the socks off of everyone there.

"I don't like drawing attention to myself, so you can do that all on your own," Jane told her. Isabella rolled her eyes again, staring up at her from her eyelashes.

"How can I ever thank you?" she retorted dryly. The sound of her phone ringing cut through her thoughts and she picked it up. Frankie. "Oh, so you remember me?"

_"I know, I haven't called in a couple of days," _he apologized. _"The police station in some backwater town had Paulie Josephson, but they released him because they had no charges to hold him on."_

Rage welled in Isabella as she growled. "That just reaffirms my faith in humanity," she muttered. "Any other word? When are you coming back?"

_"Soon as possible, Blue Eyes," _he promised her. _"Trust me, I don't wanna be here any longer than I have to be."_

"Well, if you get back here within the week, you'll get to see me stick it to Archer and attend that FBI-Boston PD function," she said.

_"Will I get to see you in a sexy dress?" _his voice was low and husky, a clear indication he was alone. She let out a giggle.

"Very," she confirmed. "I'll have Jane take pictures." He let out a groan, one of annoyance. Yep, she just killed the mood.

_"Way to ruin the moment," _he complained. Isabella smirked, leaning back in her chair.

"You know, if you _were _here, I wouldn't be going off my rocker," she informed him. "But no, you're off playing hero in Detroit." Teasing guilt trip, of course. He knew she wouldn't do it on purpose.

_"Two-way street, Blue Eyes. You could always come here and help. But no, you're back in Boston, judging me," _he shot back. Only Frankie Rizzoli could get away with snapping back like that. Anyone else would have gotten their head bitten off. Isabella rolled her eyes and buffed her nails on her shirt.

"Touche," she said. He chuckled.

_"I miss you," _he told her. She glanced around the room, knowing she couldn't reply honestly.

"Likewise," she replied, hoping he'd get the hint. Isabella felt like a douche saying it like that, but she had to.

_"Wow, that stings," _Frankie said, clearly offended. She sighed and raked her hand through her hair.

"I'm in the bullpen," she explained. "I gotta go, but I'll talk to you later. Knock 'em dead, Bruins."

He let out an understanding 'Aah.'

_"Love you, Blue Eyes," _he told her. The words still made her day and caused a smile to break across her face.

"Once again, likewise," she replied. She hung up the phone and rested her forehead against her desk. Only lifting her head to bang her head against it.

"She's officially lost it," she heard Jennifer Ryan say. Isabella lifted her head to glare at her.

"Fuck you," she retorted before resting her head back on the desk. Separation anxiety, Maura called it. Her explanation?

_"Someone who's been a major fixture in your life is currently gone. It's gonna leave its mark."_

Isabella wasn't a doctor, but she could have come up with that explanation by herself. She missed Frankie, plain and simple. Knowing he wasn't there with her was leaving its mark. Every time the door to the bullpen opened, her head would pop up and her heart leaped into her throat. Of course, it wasn't him. She was never one to say things she didn't mean.

And she loved him, that much she knew. Every day that went by, she missed him more and more.

* * *

><p>Frankie set down his phone and shook his head with a chuckle. He knew Isabella's immense fear of getting too close to people. The first time he had kissed her, she had shied away and said it shouldn't have happened.<p>

"Who was that?" Julie asked. Her light brown hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, her green eyes brimming with curiosity.

"My girlfriend," Frankie replied. "I hadn't talked to her in a few days, so I just wanted to touch base with her."

"Blue Eyes is a cute nickname," Julie teased. "Is she pretty?"

Frankie chuckled and pulled up his picture of Isabella on his phone. He held it out and showed it to her.

"See for yourself."

Julie's eyes widened, her eyebrows raising. "She's gorgeous," she commented.

"She's one of those who don't believe she's attractive. Izzy is probably the most eccentric, sarcastic, feistiest, and spunkiest, and funniest person anyone could ever meet," he said fondly. "She's about ten inches shorter than me, but I don't know what I'd do without her."


	43. Welcome Home

**A/N: c: I've been wanting to write this since he left. I've decided no one-shot, this chapter is going to be rated M. **

_**Rain: Hope you have fun in Orlando! I'm more of a Tampa fan myself, but only because of Busch Gardens. I'll write some extra-special ones for you! It's amazing how many pop into my head during this absence Izzy and Frankie are having. Can't wait to write when he gets back! ;D**_

* * *

><p><em>Lying here with you, listening to the rain<em>

_Smiling just to see the smile upon your face_

_And these are the moments I thank God that I'm alive_

_And these are the moments I'll remember all my life_

_I've found all I've waited for and I could not ask for more  
><em>

Edwin McCain - I Could Not Ask For More_  
><em>

* * *

><p>Frankie's shoes hit the pavement as he clutched his service weapon. His eyes followed Paulie Josephson as the snow pelted on his face and body. The other man cut through an alley and he cut the corner. The trashcans littered the alley and Frankie slowed to a walk.<p>

"Paulie Josephson, it's the end of the road," he called. "Come out with your hands up!" The scurrying on the fire escape caught his attention and he lifted his head to look. The brazen man was climbing on top of a roof! Frankie grabbed the ladder and climbed each rung as fast as he could. The snow was starting to seep through his wool coat, his skin broken out in goosebumps. As soon as he reached the top, Josephson was out of sight.

"Paulie Josephson, come out with your hands up!" he ordered. When the short man got down on his knees with his hands up, Frankie walked over to him. He pulled his wrists behind his back and slapped the cuffs on. The click was music to his ears as he smiled. "Paul Josephson, you're under arrest for the murders of Victor and Charlene Jones, for fleeing the state, and resisting arrest." He jerked the man to his feet and took him down the stairs.

"Boys, we got him."

* * *

><p>He was going to surprise Isabella instead of telling her he was coming home. Seeing the look of utter shock and surprise was enough to keep him on the edge of his seat as the plane flew through the skies. Only his family knew he was coming back, no one at the precinct knew. Excitement frizzled through his nerves, his knee bouncing in utter happiness. He couldn't wait to see them again. Two months away from home and he was finally going back. Julie had seemed a little sad about his leaving and he couldn't deny he would miss her.<p>

The next three hours ticked by slowly and he sighed in frustration. Jane and Tommy were going to meet him at the airport and he was headed over to Isabella's that night. When the plane landed, he stood up and collected his carry-on bags. His heart raced in excitement as the familiar smells and sights of the Boston airport greeted him like his own personal welcome party. He saw his brother and sister standing near the restrooms, their hands over their eyes and looking around.

"Frankie!" Jane said. He met his sister in a tight hug, thankful to be with his family again. Tommy gave him a tight hug as well.

"I missed you guys," Frankie said, kissing Jane on top of her head. A knowing smile spread across Jane's features.

"Can't wait for you and Iz to see each other," she teased. "She's gotten snappier by the day." He had requested it of them that they told no one about his homecoming, he was looking forward to surprising everyone.

"Can't wait to see her either," Frankie replied. His siblings snorted in response.

When he unpacked everything at his apartment, Frankie knew he couldn't wait to see Isabella any longer. The excitement nearly overwhelmed him as he pulled into her driveway. He hoped like hell that Teagan wasn't there, because he had absolutely no intention of letting her see or know about them.

His heart galloped wildly in his chest as he reached out and knocked on the door. Nothing. He hadn't even checked to see if her truck was there. Frankie looked over at the driveway and saw the black truck parked proudly. Teagan's Mustang, however, was gone. Did Isabella ride somewhere with her? Finally, he heard footsteps and the door opened. His girlfriend stood on the other side, her petite body clad in a Rangers T-shirt and a pair of tiny black plaid flannel shorts. Her dark hair clung to her face in wet strands, her face void of make-up. Wordlessly, he grabbed her face and crushed his lips to hers.

She gripped his face in her hands, returning the kiss hungrily. He groaned into her touch, the past two months melting away. All he wanted now was her. Isabella dragged him into the house, shutting the door behind them.

"How long do we have?" he asked between kisses. When oxygen became a necessity, they broke apart. Isabella raked a hand through her wet hair, ruffling it out. It was shorter than he remembered, no longer the waist-length tresses she had been proud of. Her wet bangs hung in her face, partially shrouding those big blue eyes of hers.

"About two hours," she replied, a little breathlessly. She pulled his face downwards to meet her lips with his, clearly straining to reach. "Not the couch, my sister sleeps there."

Frankie chuckled, pulling her down the familiar path to her room. No time for teasing and foreplay, they wanted each other too badly. When the bed met the back of his knees, the clothing tag began. He usually loved to take his time in unraveling her, exploring and branding every inch in his brain. Now, he just wanted the feel of her body against his. Isabella let out whimpers of pleasure as his hands slid under her shirt, exploring her soft skin. When his fingers brushed her breasts, her breath hitched. Frankie's thumbs grazed over her nipples, a moan emitting from his lover. He was getting fed up with foreplay, he wanted her now. Her shirt fell to the floor, her shorts in fast pursuit. Isabella unbuttoned his shirt, tossing it onto the floor. His jeans came next, along with his boxers. He yanked her panties down and entered her in one swift movement.

She bit down on his shoulder to stifle her cry of ecstasy. He groaned at the sensation, his lower back tingling. Neither of them were going to last long as each met a thrust with an arch. Their mouths found each other as their bodies slid together to stake their claim as the other's property. Isabella was his. No man would ever take her from him. Frankie was hers and he knew damn well that no one would ever take him from her. His gasps grew louder and harder as he tottered closer to the edge.

"I'm close," she murmured against his mouth. With a lurch and a cry of his name, he felt her come. He wasn't far behind as he spilled into her.

Frankie tucked Isabella against his body, stroking her hair. Her lips found his in a gentle kiss, those beautiful eyes of hers staring into his.

"Hell of a way to say hello," she said, softly chuckling. This woman turned him into a sap.

"Hell of a welcome-home party," he countered, kissing her forehead. She smiled against his neck, curling closer.

"I missed you," she told him. "A lot."

"And now, the guys at work don't have to deal with a sexually frustrated Isabella Zuko," he said brightly. She rolled her eyes, stretching a bit.

"Is that all you think about?" she teased, sticking her tongue out. In the dim light of her lamp, he could see the ice-blue tongue piercing.

"Only with you," he responded. Frankie loved that it was only him who brought out this cuddly, vulnerable side of her. Usually, she was tough. Talking on the phone with her was nothing compared to seeing her. "You've turned me into a damn sap."

She raised a quizzical eyebrow, clearly having him elaborate.

"I've been gone for two months after collaring Josephson and all I could think about was seeing you again," he explained. Her smile lit up her face, her eyes lighting up.

"Oh, really? I got ass-deep in snow a couple of weeks ago and I just wanted to talk to you. Instead, Frost made fun of me," she said. He chuckled at the mental image.

"Did you get back at him?" he asked, amused. A comprehending look.

"I should," she replied. "All I did was dis sports again. I need to shove him in a snowbank or something."


	44. To Say Goodbye

_**A/N: Okay, so sorry I didn't update last night! I was staying at my sister Ericka's house and I was dead tired. As well as juggling her three cuddle-starved pooches. We got massive Huck, her German Shepherd/Husky mix who's nearly as tall as I am (I'm 5'5), lovable greyhound/beagle/Feist Dotko, who I want to take home and love forever because he's that frigging awesome, and derpy black Lab, Drill-bit. I call Drill-bit 'Derp-bit' because he's a total dumbass. But I love all three of them anyways, my Ko-ko, my Huckleberry Boy, and my Derp-bit...**_

_**Short chapter tonight, because I am still very tired.  
><strong>_

_**Rain: Ah yes, sweet irony lol. Such a lovely welcome home present, ain't it? I hope you forgive me if this fic lags, I've been trying to promote my new Stargate: Atlantis fic 'Worlds Apart', featuring my OC Selena Fuentes. I'm gonna can 'Here We Go Again' and replace it with another fic in the works, inspired by Romeo and Juliet, the 1996 one. But yes, I think Julie had a little bit of a crush on him but Frankie's too blind to see it lol. Hope you had a good time in Orlando!**_

* * *

><p><em>They keep saying time will heal<br>But the pain just gets more real_

_If I could keep on holding on  
>Maybe I can keep my heart<br>From knowing that you're gone_

Danny Gokey - I Will Not Say Goodbye_  
><em>

* * *

><p>Isabella dropped her phone on her desk as the words registered from her mother-in-law. Dante died in a shootout on Wednesday. Surreality nearly overwhelmed her as she contemplated how her world was expected to keep going. How could it? Dante Zuko was dead. Her throat thickened and hot tears pricked her eyes.<p>

She could barely hear people asking her if she was alright. Her head flopped into her hands, the tears rolling down her face. Unable to face people, she bolted to her feet. The chair fell backwards and she raced out of the room. Isabella slumped against the wall of the bathroom, sobs of grief wracking her body.

_He can't be dead_, she thought. It was Dante Zuko. The man was practically a John Grisham hero! He had evaded death so many times, thinking of him as dead was a silly idea. There was a knock on the bathroom door and she wiped her eyes.

"Isabella? It's Jane," she heard her call through the door. "Are you okay, sweetie?"

"I don't want to talk to anyone," Isabella replied, her voice thick with tears. She slumped to the ground and closed her eyes to block out the sound of the murmuring voices on the other side of the door.

"Izzy? It's Frankie," a male voice came through the door. Dread filled her and shook her head. What the hell was she going to tell him, that she was sobbing her eyes and heart out over her ex-husband's death? "Can we talk?"

"I don't want to talk to anyone," Isabella repeated. "And right now? Especially not you." Immediately, she regretted the words.

She knew it was childish to hide from the world in a bathroom, but she didn't care. It was the only place she could be alone with her thoughts. She rested her head between her knees, taking deep breaths from her mouth.

"Izzy?" Evangeline's voice came from the other side of the door. "Izzy, it's Evan. I know about Danny, baby." There were tears in Evangeline's voice as the door cracked.

"I don't want to talk about it," Isabella said. She reached up and pulled a paper towel out of the dispenser to wipe her nose and eyes.

"Then don't," Evangeline replied. She had known Dante longer than Isabella had, the two had had a deep bond. The taller woman had red-rimmed eyes, her makeup streaked. For once, she held her heels in her hand and she knelt down next to her.

"We're divorced, but I missed him so much." Isabella curled against her older sister, fresh waves of grief rolling over her. Evangeline handed a long envelope to her.

"Read it tonight," she told her. Isabella nodded and stood up.

"It's not fair," she declared. Evangeline tucked her in her arms, stroking her hair.

"Of course not, Izzy," she murmured. Fresh tears of grief spilled from Isabella's eyes and she clung to her sister.

"I want him back," she sobbed.

* * *

><p>Frankie had no idea what to say to Isabella. She was clearly suffering and clearly had no desire to talk to anyone. Cavanaugh had given her leave to go to New York. No one would tell them why, but he knew something major had happened in her life.<p>

He cupped his girlfriend's face in her hands. Isabella's blue eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, her upper lip swollen from crying.

"Talk to me, baby," he requested, resting his forehead against hers. "Let me help."

"Dante's dead," she whispered. Now he understood. Shock washed over him and sympathy replaced it with a warm glow. He enveloped her into his arms, kissing her head.

"I'm so sorry, Izzy," he murmured into her ear. He smothered the momentary feeling of jealousy as he caressed the ruts of her ribcage. She had loved Dante, had married him, and had taken his last name. Isabella had kept the name, even after the divorce. They had been friends afterward, he had helped her come to terms with everything. He was one of the few she trusted implicitly.

"I miss him, you know? Not just because he was my husband," she said, sniffling. He kissed her forehead, tucking her close. "Just don't leave me, okay?"

Frankie nodded and kissed from her forehead to her cheek. "Why would I?"


	45. Big Girls Don't Cry

_**A/N: Okay, so I have about four fics to update a day now to keep them from going on hiatus. They are: "Won't Back Down", "Worlds Apart" , "Starting With Me" , and "NYPD's Love Triangle" (In collaboration with myself and xSunkissedxx) This means I now have littler time to do other things, like go on a website I frequent (I'm a die-hard Warrior cats fan, so I go on a chat site called Warriors Fantasy. If you ever go there and see a white pawn with the name 'Thorne' or 'Alice Quarantine' , it's me c:) and other things...because of my little ritual when I write. Music, WF, polyvore, a drink, and a snack. **_

_**Rain: I know, it's so sad when people die! I wanted to make Frankie and Isabella a little closer, so I threw that in. I feel terrible for it, because I did that lol. I think she knows that Frankie's there for her and it scares her, because he might die too.  
><strong>_

* * *

><p><em>I hope you know, I hope you know<em>

_That this has nothing to do with you_

_It's personal, myself and I_

_We've got some straightening out to do_

Fergie - Big Girls Don't Cry

* * *

><p>Isabella sat down in her truck, letter in hand as she ripped it open. With trembling hands, she opened the piece of paper and began to read. The letter was dated the day she was released from the hospital, she realized in surprise.<p>

_Izzy,_

_If you're reading this, I'm dead. There's no way around that. I just want you to know that I'm okay, even though I'm not there. Truth? I've never been good at sitting down and writing out my thoughts and feelings, especially for other people. But you knew that. I also want you to know that there's never been anyone after you. Yep, you had me whipped, honey. I know there's someone else, someone better for you than I was. Someone who was able to keep you and never let you go. I've been in love with you since the day you snapped at me at that murder scene. Remember Henry Darius? You were so serious about your job and you didn't let anyone tell you what to do. _

She stopped reading, the tears blurring her vision. He didn't say "I was in love." He said "I've been in love." What kind of monster had she been, pushing away the first man she had ever let in? She had blamed herself when he was kicking himself twice as hard.

_I love you, Bella. _

The only man in the world who had been able to get away with calling her that. Sobs racked her as she rested her head against the steering wheel. Folding up the letter and sticking it into her console, she wiped away her tears.

_"I'm Agent Zuko," a dark-haired man said with a wink. Isabella stuck her chin out defiantly as she crossed her arms over her chest. Mac usually let her take care of the FBI, because she had a way of getting them to back down._

_"Detective Pacino," she introduced herself. He extended a hand and she glared at him. "This is the NYPD case, not an FBI case."_

_"Stubborn and beautiful, a deadly combination," Zuko said, closing his eyes for a moment. Isabella let out an indignant snort. "It's a sad day when Detective Taylor has to send one of his CSIs to do his dirty work."_

_"He sends me because I get the job done," she quipped. "Henry Darius is on Manhattan soil, that makes him NYPD's problem. You're more than welcome to oversee, but not interfere." _

Isabella wiped her eyes and hopped down out of her truck. She walked into her house to pack her things for Dante's funeral in four days. The thought of saying goodbye to him was a lot to bear right now. It wasn't fair to Frankie that she kept pushing him away, but she needed space.

* * *

><p>Seeing Isabella so depressed had crushed Frankie. She had lost weight, her hair hung limply from a half-assed ponytail. But what chilled him to the bone were her eyes. The blue eyes he loved to look into, what used to be so happy and joyful, had become deep-set and sorrowful, the happiness completely gone.<p>

"Man, she's really messed up over Dante's death," Jane commented. She had expressed her concern over his dating a divorcee, but he had told her to ultimately back off.

"He was her husband," Frankie reminded her. "No matter if they're divorced or not, they loved each other at one point in time. You can't erase that."

And...he just set himself up for that.

"I know, you don't erase that sort of love. That's why most people don't date divorcees," she muttered. He kicked her shin as someone looked up.

"Ow," she growled at him. He scowled at her pointedly, letting her know someone was listening in.

"It's gonna sound cheesy, but I do love her," he muttered to her after Korsak walked by. "She needs me right now, I'm not gonna turn my back on her because she's divorced."

Jane rolled her eyes. "Oh, yuck, come on. Isabella's great, I really do like her, but she needs space right now. You need to give her space to think about everything that's happened," she replied. "If she wants you, then go to her."

"Jane, she's not the type to reach out for people. If she wants me, she's not gonna tell me," he argued.

"Then, it's up to you," Jane replied honestly. "I just don't want to see you get hurt again."

* * *

><p>Isabella stood in the cemetery as she watched him being lowered into the ground. It was a horrendously reality now. Her life was going on without Dante. Exes all over had asked her how she could stomach being near her ex-husband, let alone being friends with him. She didn't know, but his friendship had been too valuable to lose. Now she wished she could have had a chance to say goodbye.<p>

Her black skirt ruffled in the breeze as she stood motionlessly under the tree. Dante had still loved her, but had let her go to let her grow. Who else could love her like that? Who else had?

She felt someone slip their hand in hers and she looked up to see Don.

"Hey," she said softly. He opened his arms wordlessly and she stepped into his embrace.

"You'll be alright, Izzy," he told her. She wiped her eyes a tad, sniffling.

"That's the problem," she whispered.


	46. No Strings Attached

**_A/N: I feel dreadful for the lack of updates...the second part of this chapter is a dream, the first time it's Isabella's point of view.  
><em>**

**_Rain: I know, I love R&I! I can't wait till it comes back on! I've recently gotten into Stargate: Atlantis (I get it instantly on Netflix, I am a happy girl!) and yes, I'm a VERY busy girl. Jane and Frankie both have good points, and they see that, so it's always alternating. I'm a little happy I was able to make you feel so much lol. _**

* * *

><p><em>I will stand by you, I will help you through<em>

_When you've done all you can do _

_And you can't cope_

_I will dry your eyes, I will fight your fight_

_I will hold you tight and I won't let go_

Rascal Flatts - I Won't Let Go

* * *

><p>Frankie took a deep breath as he rang her doorbell. When Teagan was revealed, her heavily pregnant body partially shrouded by the door.<p>

"Is Isabella here?" he asked. She nodded and poked her head back inside. He heard his name murmured between the two before the door was opened wider.

"I'll leave you two alone," she said softly as she picked up her purse. Isabella stood in front of the door and invited him in.

"How've you been?" Frankie asked. She hadn't returned to work in two weeks following Dante's funeral. "We've all missed you." He didn't want to add that he missed her the most, for fear of scaring her away.

"Tired, mostly," Isabella answered. Her eyes seemed to be returning their color, the sadness slowly melting away. "Stressed, definitely."

"That's to be expected," he said. He held out his arms and felt her slip her arms around his waist. She had looked healthy pre-Dante's death, but now, she looked about ten years older and about ten pounds lighter. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Just hold me," she requested in a small voice. "Just promise me you're not going anywhere." Frankie kissed the top of her head, rubbing her back soothingly.

"I promise."

* * *

><p>All she could see was darkness. Pure nothingness. She sat down alone, her knees to her chest. The walls that seemed to thin out and lower were back and stronger than ever, the dragon perched at the top. Isabella could only see a glisten of emerald green scales in a pencil-thin beam of light. The lone wolf of her heart pawed at the cage, letting out a growl. Her golden eyes seemed to glow as the light seemed to broaden.<p>

"Why are you out here all by yourself?" a familiar voice asked. The dragon emitted an uneasy growl, its tail swaying with discontent. The wolf's ears perked, her tail wagging. Dante moved from the darkness, the once pencil-thin light glowing from his body. Isabella felt her heart swell and the wolf emitted a happy yelp. Isabella and the wolf were one, she realized. Her heart was happy to see Dante, therefore, the wolf was as well.

"I've always been by myself," she murmured. He chuckled.

"Liar," he teased. "You've never been alone." He sat down beside her, the darkness evaporating. The wolf seemed to be pleased to see him, wriggling on her belly in pure delight. Dante petted her jet-black pelt, its tail wagging quietly in contentment.

"Even when I wanted to be," Isabella sighed. Her eyes closed for a moment before opening again. "I really miss you. You were one of my closest friends, even before we were together."

"Because I was one of the only people to put up with your pain-in-the-ass tendencies," Dante replied. There was that devil-may-care grin she had adored. He stopped petting the wolf for a second before raising his dark brown gaze. "Let him in, Bella. He wants to be with you, to let you know he cares. If I had ever been in love with you, Frankie wants to be with you and take care of you."

"How?" Isabella whispered painfully. Dante chuckled, nodding down to the wolf. Her jet-black pelt had once been ravaged with scars and bruises, her golden eyes blazed over in stubborn independence. Now, her body seemed to be well on its way to healing into its former glory.

"I didn't do that," he uttered. Isabella looked up and saw Frankie standing near them, hesitant. "He did."

"Let him in."

Dante was gone. Isabella felt her eyes flood with tears as the wolf lifted her head to greet the new visitor. If she had been happy to see Dante, she was ecstatic for Frankie. The wolf dropped her front, her tail wagging madly with excitement. Even the dragon seemed to purr with contentment.

"It was you," she said, the tears rolling down her face. Frankie smirked and sat down next to her, his arms encircling her. "It was always you."

He nuzzled her shoulder and she nestled closer to the source of warmth and healing.

"It will always be me," he assured her as the tears came harder. She could feel the battered, broken mess of her heart become healed again. "I'm not leaving you. Not now, not ever."

* * *

><p>Isabella jolted awake on the bed, her head snapping up. She saw Frankie's handsome face asleep in the dim light, his arms securely around her. Her head came to rest on his chest again, the sound of his heartbeat resonating in her ear. She ran her fingers down his arm delicately, memorizing the emotion she felt and imprinting every inch onto her mind. Frankie looked like he hadn't slept in weeks, dark circles marring his olive skin, and his dark hair unusually unkempt.<p>

She loved him, plain and simple. He had picked up the pieces of her soul and bandaged the mess of her heart, bonding it stronger in its wake. And he did it for her sake, not his own. He was the only one who had access to her heart, the only one who was able to fix the mess that was her life.

Frankie Rizzoli truly loved her, and she truly loved him.

"How long have you been awake?" he murmured in her ear. A smile crossed her features as she snuggled closer to him. His hand caressed her thigh through her purple sweatpants.

"Not very long," she answered. When he ducked down to kiss her head, she tilted her face upwards to catch his lips with hers. Isabella had missed this, the sense of intimacy between them. This was right.

"Are you sure?" he asked against her lips. She nodded, wrapping her arms around his neck. He kissed her again, this time long and slow.

"I love you," she murmured against his mouth.


	47. Stronger

_**A/N: While writing that last chapter, I came to this realization: I don't think I've ever written anyone more destined for each other than Frankie and Izzy. Short chapter tonight, more later on.  
><strong>_

_**I feel so bad for neglecting this story...my other story 'Worlds Apart' had captured my attention :c If you're a Stargate: Atlantis fan, you should go check it out!  
><strong>_

_**Rain: I kind of made it cliche lol. Dante's not really telling her to move on, because she technically already did. He's just telling her to let Frankie in, because he loves her. And thank you! I think she's definitely my best OC, too. I loved writing that little moment at the end...**_

_**Vintage: Thank you for such an amazing compliment! I hope you continue to enjoy this story...  
><strong>_

* * *

><p><em>I'm stronger than I ever thought that I could be<em>

_Baby, I used to go with the flow_

_Didn't really care 'bout me_

_You might think that I can't take it_

_But you're wrong  
><em>

Britney Spears - Stronger

* * *

><p>Isabella drummed her fingers on her desk as she finished up her paperwork she had missed. Her first day back at work was going by slowly. The sight of someone hovering over her caught her attention. He was a middle-aged man with a bent nose and a head of messy blonde hair. Chuck Conrad, the head of the crime lab.<p>

"Can I speak to you alone, Detective Zuko?" he asked. Isabella nodded and stood up, following him into the break room. "I've heard through the grapevine that you're pretty good at crime scene investigation." She arched her eyebrow.

"I worked CSI prior to being a homicide detective. Only reason I transferred was due to budget cuts," she replied slowly. Chuck nodded thoughtfully.

"I've reviewed your case history," he informed her. "Very impressive, your versatility could be of some use to us." Isabella felt a blush creep to her cheeks at the compliment.

"I'm overqualified to be a lab tech, sir," she said, slightly embarrassed. He shook his head.

"The commissioner wants to create an investigative team for the lab," he explained. "Your resumee passed over my desk and I would be thrilled to talk to your former boss about your work."

Isabella's eyes widened. "Are you serious?" she asked. Looking over her shoulder, she saw a few officers skittering away.

"I also heard about your little lesson you taught some of the lab techs," he said. "You'd be doing the same job you'd be doing now, only your first place is in the lab."

Excitement ran in a thrill through her body as a wide smile formed on her face. "Are you offering me a job?" she asked. Chuck nodded his confirmation.

"I want you to head the team. Can you get me a letter of recommendation from your boss in New York?" he asked. She nodded vigorously.

"I'll have it on your desk as soon as I can," she responded.

* * *

><p>Isabella walked back over to her desk, her body practically thrumming with excitement. She picked up the headset to the phone on her desk and dialed an all-too familiar number.<p>

_"Mac Taylor," _someone said. She smiled widely at the sound of her former boss's name. Mac had always been like a father to her, keeping her safe and cool-headed. He had been more of a father figure than any other male presence in her life.

"Hey, Mac, it's Izzy," she said. He chuckled lowly over the line.

_"Can't say I'm not surprised," _he replied. _"What brings this call?"_

"Remember when you fired me, that you said you'd write me an outstanding letter of recommendation? If I ever wanted another job in a crime lab?" she asked, twirling her finger in the phone cord. Luckily, none of her friends were around. Bullpen rumors would fly, but that was it. Isabella Zuko would be the one to confirm them.

_"Someone wants you in their crime lab," _he stated. Isabella murmured a confirmation.

"The commissioner here wants to open up an investigative team. The head of the crime lab wants me to head the team," she told him. "If I get that letter of recommendation..."

_"Consider it done. It sounds like things are coming together for you. We're all proud of you here and you deserve this job," _he replied. She smiled, tapping her finger on her desk.

"Mac Taylor, you're amazing," she said. After a few more minutes of talk, she hung up. Isabella decided not to tell anyone just yet. The job needed to be cinched first. She knew she was more than qualified for it, and she was local. After a year and a half with the Boston PD, she knew the streets and knew who was good and bad news. Streets and book-smarts.

"Who is Mac Taylor and why is he amazing?" Jane asked. Isabella looked up at her friend and smiled mysteriously.

"He's my former boss, and about how amazing he is, you'll just have to see," she told her.

* * *

><p>Frankie watched as Isabella bounced her knee while jotting her name down. She seemed happier since returning to work. Everything about her seemed light. Her once-dull eyes returned to their former luster, her smile about a million watts brighter.<p>

"So, you're back to normal?" he asked. Isabella looked up, her blue eyes curious. It seemed hard to believe that a month and a half ago, she had lost her ex-husband.

"Yes," she answered. Her smile flickered across her face, lighting up her features. The fax machine beeped and she leaped to her feet. Her petite frame bounded away, her dark hair swaying with each step.

"Something's up with her," Jane commented. Frankie nodded in agreement. "She got off the phone with her old boss, I caught the end of the conversation."

"What was it?" he asked. Usually, he told his sister to butt out, but he wanted to know.

"I think she's getting transferred, because I heard letter of recommendation thrown around quite a bit," she replied. Frankie stood in shock as he watched the smile light up Isabella's face. "To a CSI position."

"She wouldn't leave," he dismissed the idea. When Jane didn't respond, he glanced at her. "Be a little less skeptic, why don't you."

"Crime Scene is what she loves to do," Jane reminded him. "If she found a really great job, would you try to keep her here?"


	48. New Job

_**A/N: Okay, so it is definitely time to update this fic! And...today marks one year ago that I first came up with Isabella. Happy birthday, muse!  
><strong>_

_**Rain: I know, you're so amazing for being so patient with me! Worlds Apart is definitely my new baby, I am way loving writing it these days! What I need to do is get back into the swing of Rizzoli and Isles, so I get more inspiration for that...Izzy's the head of a team, not the lab lol. It is kind of like her and Flack all over again! But I do believe Izzy and Frankie belong together, I wouldn't be so mean as to get rid of her when there's so much to be done with them! Jane is definitely undermining their relationship, so I'll have to put a stop to it. She's definitely a realist, but it's starting to get pessimistic.  
><strong>_

* * *

><p><em>So, get ready, here I come<em>

_Until the job is done, no time to risk_

_There's nothing stopping me  
><em>

Joanna Pacitti - Watch Me Shine

* * *

><p>Isabella slapped the letter onto Mr. Conrad's desk. "I have here a letter of recommendation from a Detective Mac Taylor of the New York Crime Lab," she announced. She smiled proudly at him, planting her hands onto her hips. This job was exactly what she and Frankie needed. They both wanted to air out their relationship, prove to the world they were ready for it. If it called her at the worst times, so be it. They would be honest with the world finally.<p>

Chuck was reading it over, his gaze lifting to look at her.

"I'm going to go back to my job," she told him, pulling out her card. Isabella handed it to him with a smile. "When you've made your decision, give me a call."

Isabella walked out of the office, her facial expression smug. It seemed like things were going to stop falling apart now and would start falling into place in her life.

"I am so going to nail this job," she muttered to herself. The look of anger on Frankie's face when she sat down alarmed her. "Hey, I got good news."

"What is it?" he asked, clearly irritated. Her eyebrow rose and arched at his words.

"I got a job offer today," she informed him. His head raised, his eyes meeting her with suspenseful surprise. "As a CSI."

"Where?" Her smile returned at the burning curiosity.

"Here," she answered. His face fell for a moment. "The commissioner wanted to open up an investigative team. He wants me as the head."

His dark eyes brightened and a smile broke out on his handsome face. "That's great news!"

Her smile widened. "And you know what that means, right?" she hinted. She leaned forward onto her elbow and mouthed it. "We can go public."

"That sounds good to me," he said aloud. It sounded good to her as well. They could actually be a couple for once.

"Same here," she replied, standing up. She flipped the file shut and slid it into her outbox. For once, she was finally caught up on paperwork. Her desk was once again immaculate, her drawers were neat and organized. The sound of her work phone going off with Chuck's number caught her attention. With a wide smile, she faced her partner/boyfriend.

"This is the final answer. Wish me luck," she said.

* * *

><p>Isabella smoothed out her jeans, bouncing her boot-clad foot in the chair. She had taken extra care to freshen up her makeup, her hair was down instead of pulled back into a ponytail. Instead of wearing her ivory button-down blouse, she had changed into ice-blue camisole with a silver blazer.<p>

"I've spoken to Detective Taylor and Detective Bonasera. Both of them had nothing but glowing commendations based on your work," Chuck told her. Isabella smiled at the sound of Stella's name. She had spoken to her just last week, but the conversation had been cut short by the two of them getting called away for a homicide. "In all honesty, you're definitely the most qualified on the force to head this team, albeit your experience. I'd love to have you here."

This was the time when things would fall into place for her. She stood up and shook his hand.

"When do I start?" she asked. He smiled faintly at her.

"Tomorrow too early?" he asked. She shook her head, her smile widening to a grin.

"Tomorrow's perfect," she confirmed.

* * *

><p>Frankie watched Isabella walk out of the lab, clearly fighting a smile. Her ice-blue eyes were excited as they met his dark browns.<p>

"I got the job," she announced. "I just got the fucking job!"

Excitement raced through him as he stood up, hugging her tightly. She hugged him back, squealing.

"Congratulations, Blue Eyes!" he said. They were finally stepping up. His girlfriend was the head of an investigative team now. Her life was finally coming together.

"What is this congratulations in order for?" Korsak asked. Frankie set Isabella back onto her feet and grinned at the older man.

"Tell him," he told her. Her smile mirrored his, her eyes bright.

"I got a job in the lab, heading an investigative team," she announced. "I'm leaving Homicide and starting tomorrow, I am a crime scene investigator."

Korsak hugged her tightly. "Now, explain CSI to me, I've always been confused by it," he requested. Frankie watched her go with him, explaining her work to him. The door to the bullpen opened, revealing Jane and Maura. Feeling smug, he walked over to them.

"You owe me fifteen dollars," he declared. Jane arched her brow in confusion for a moment before a comprehending look crossed her face.

"She got the job close by," she stated. He smirked arrogantly.

"Even better. Her job is in the lab, heading the new investigative team," he informed her. Things were starting to look up for them now.

"Wait, who's the head of the new investigative team?" Maura asked. Now, it was time to gloat.

"Isabella is," he replied. He couldn't be more proud of Isabella and he couldn't be happier for her. "The commissioner opened up a new investigative team and the head of the lab wanted her to lead it."

Maura's eyes lit up as a smile spread across her pretty features. "That's great news, she must be excited about that."

"I'm really happy for her," Frankie answered, his eyes on his girlfriend as she chatted animatedly with Frost, Korsak, and Jane. "This is exactly what she needs right now."

Maura followed his gaze and nodded. "She's good for the job," she commented. "Isabella's intelligent and resourceful. I watched her teach some lab techs how to do a reconstruction, she'd be good to teach others to do the same."

Frankie felt her eyes on him. "You're in love with her, aren't you?" she asked. He opened his mouth to deny it, but nodded. There was no point in lying. No one had asked him point blank about his feelings for Isabella, he had never voiced them. "How long?"

He ducked his head a bit, rubbing the back of his neck vigorously. "We've been together for almost six months," he finally admitted.

"When are you two going public?" she asked. He shrugged.

"When she's all settled into her new job," he answered.


	49. Aphrodisiac

**_A/N: I am feeling a bit better today, my nausea has died down...but my fever and cold are still around :c by the way, I am wayy too addicted to Stargate: Atlantis. Google images of John Sheppard and Carson Beckett. Beckett has the most AMAZING accent ever *Less than three* and John is just...gorgeous. There is no other word for John Sheppard except GORGEOUS._**

**_Rain: Glad I could make your day lol. And yes, Izzy had her 'birthday' yesterday. I remember sitting at my computer, trying to think of a good name. Originally, she was a brunette with green eyes, and written in first person. I can't wait to write out when they go public, it's going to be a good one! _**

**_Fluff warning at the beginning ;D  
><em>**

* * *

><p><em>I know that he loves me 'cause he told me so<em>

_I know that he loves me 'cause his feelings show_

_When he stares at me, you see, he cares for me_

_You see how he is so deep in love_

_I know that he loves me 'cause it's obvious_

_I know that he loves me 'cause it's me he trusts_

_And he's missing me if he's not kissing me_

_And when he looks at me, his brown eyes tell his soul  
><em>

Destiny's Child - Brown Eyes

* * *

><p>Isabella had thought she had been in love before, but it was just infatuation compared to how deeply she had fallen in love with Frankie Rizzoli. Every time he was around her, her heart skipped beats and raced faster in her chest. It felt like her reason for being put on this Earth was to make him smile.<p>

She knew she would never love anyone else again if anything were to happen to him. For once in her life, she felt like she deserved to be happy. Isabella knew utter completion with him. Her soul had been repaired, the walls had been completely knocked down. If someone had told her a year and a half ago that she would find the man she was destined to be with for the rest of her life in Boston, she would have laughed in their face and called them crazy.

"You look happy," he murmured in her ear. She nestled closer to him, resting her face against his shoulder. His fingers ran down her back through the fabric of her white T-shirt.

"It's because I am," she replied. Her head tucked into the crook of his neck, his hand on her narrow hip, his thumb caressing the material of the black and pink plaid pajama shorts. "I haven't been this happy in a very long time."

He smiled at her words before pressing a kiss to her lips. "That's good. I'm glad you're happy," he answered.

"I start my job tomorrow," she said. The excitement ran through her again as she wiggled.

"Mm, you're pretty jazzed about that," he commented. She nodded, sitting on his stomach. His hands came to rest on her hips as he looked up at her. "I think I'll get pretty jazzed about this."

Her mouth lowered to his, nipping at his lower lip. "Mm, maybe later," she told him. "Right now, I just want to enjoy being right here."

"You can't just do something like that and say maybe later," he complained. Isabella let out a giggle, her gaze dropping down to him. "You enjoy torturing me, don't you?"

Her face creased into a frown as she shook her head. Her dark hair flew in each direction with the motion.

"Liar."

She held up her forefinger and thumb. "Just a little," she finally conceded. He chuckled, his thumbs caressing her hipbones.

* * *

><p>"Okay, what the hell is an aphrodisiac?" Frankie finally asked as they studied a chart. Isabella stifled a giggle at the blunt question with a hand over her mouth.<p>

"Do you really not know?" she asked, looking up at him. Trace on a victim had come back as yohimbe. Yohimbe bark was used in aphrodisiacs. "Think of the word 'aphrodisiac'. What does it sound like?"

"That one Greek lady," he responded. Her smile remained on her face as she rolled her eyes. Leave it to him to say something like that.

"Aphrodite," she confirmed. "Now, what is Aphrodite the goddess of?"

"Uh, beauty, right?" he said. She nodded, gesturing him to continue. When he clearly drew a blank, she let out her laugh.

"Aphrodite is the goddess of beauty and sexuality," she informed him. "Aphrodisiacs are sexual stimulants that increase performance."

"Like...Viagra?" he asked. She shook her head, jotting down the answer to the yohimbe bark.

"Viagra is to treat erectile dysfunction," she corrected absentmindedly as she flipped her folder shut. "Aphrodisiacs are tools for when you want sex, but you need a little help getting there."

"Have you ever used one on me?" he asked. Isabella's head shot up in shock.

"Of course not," she replied indignantly. "Have you ever used one on me?" When he raised his eyebrow, she rolled her eyes.

"Silly question, considering you didn't even know what an aphrodisiac was until a few moments ago," she muttered.

"Hey, don't make fun of me, Blue Eyes," he warned her. She smirked to herself, rubbing her tongue ring against the roof of her mouth. When he went to walk away, he leaned by her ear. "By the way, you're better than an aphrodisiac."

She shoved him away playfully with a snort. "Go away," she told him.

* * *

><p>Her eyebrows rose as the chemical compound of food came up. It was food that were suggested to be aphrodisiacs. Chocolate, vanilla, cinnamon, bananas, almonds, figs, asparagus, almonds, honey, and basil.<p>

She let out a giggle. Paired with the yohimbe bark, they had someone with a marriage in serious danger.

"Hey, Maura, listen to the food content found," Isabella said as she held the tablet in her hands. "Chocolate, vanilla, cinnamon, bananas, almonds, figs, asparagus, honey, and basil. Pair that with the yohimbe bark and what do you get?"

"Those foods are all aphrodisiacs," Maura commented. She took the tablet. "And I have a cause of death on Richard Capone. He died from heart failure, a complete sensory overload."

Isabella let out a hysterical giggle. "Are you telling me the victim died from a heightened sexual experience?" she asked. Their victim was seventy-two years old.

"Yes," the redhead confirmed. It was clear she was trying to smother her amusement.

Isabella sat down with the detectives in the bullpen, looking around the room. Maura sat on the other side, holding her own tablet in her hands.

"We know Richard Capone died from heart failure, due to a sensory overload. I analyzed the stomach contents and it came back as chocolate, vanilla, cinnamon, bananas, almonds, figs, asparagus, honey, and basil," Isabella said. "And a bottle of yohimbe bark was next to his bed when he was found."

"He had a previous heart condition, right?" Jane asked. Isabella nodded.

"Capone had several heart attacks over the past two years," she replied. She tapped the tablet. "And was advised to abstain from things that got his heart rate going and his blood pressure raised, like sex. Considering we found him...naked-" she forced the word out with a grimace. "With a condom in the trashcan next to the bed, it's to be expected that someone killed him with that."

"So, sex is our murder weapon?" Frankie concluded. Isabella nodded again, moving the tablet around. "What a way to go, eh?"

"I think it was assisted suicide, but that's my opinion," she replied. "Yohimbe bark can also be used to treat Type 2 diabetes, which our victim also had."

"But keep in mind, the food found inside and outside of his body were also aphrodisiacs, along with the yohimbe bark," Maura spoke up.

"Chocolate was the main component," Isabella said, standing up. "Yohimbe bark and chocolate." She grabbed the marker pen and wrote out chemical compounds on the board. "What a lot of people don't know, is that chocolate, figs, and avocados are considered the top three aphrodisiac foods."

After capping the pen, she brought it to her lips thoughtfully. "We're looking for someone he's around regularly, who's between under forty," she replied.

"He's worth about seven million dollars, right?" Frost asked. "Let's look at the beneficiaries."

"You take a look at that, I'll get Sanders and we'll look at his list of caretakers," Isabella replied.


	50. R&R

_**A/N: I have more time to update this, Lord knows I have enough inspiration to add another chapter...there will be periodic chapters throughout tonight..keep your peepers open ;D There hasn't been nearly enough fluff to satisfy me, so I'm writing more until I'm satisfied. Soft M rating for groping, making out, etc.  
><strong>_

_**Rain: Like I said, I felt terrible for neglecting this story! I'm happy you liked the fluff, it's so fun to write. I actually wrote the chapter later on this morning, I was at such a standstill, I just sort of wrapped it up! Izzy is definitely a sadist, but I don't think Frankie's gonna complain. That little pen move was something I could see Isabella doing on the show. Monday and Rizzoli and Isles is back on! I have to watch it online on Tuesday, though...  
><strong>_

* * *

><p><em>I don't know how you do what you do<em>

_I'm so in love with you_

_It just keeps getting better_

_I wanna spend the rest of my life _

_With you by my side forever and ever_

_Every little thing you do_

_Baby, I'm amazed by you  
><em>

Lonestar - Amazed

* * *

><p>"Why is it that you keep torturing me?" Frankie asked. Isabella looked at him over her shoulder with a sly smile as she wriggled her jeans over those tiny black lace panties. Oh, not those jeans...<p>

The dark jeans hugged every curve of her lower half, emphasizing the curve of her ass, clinging to her toned thighs...

"Because you're a masochist," she replied, sliding the straps of her black silk bra up her arms before hooking it from behind. He was right about his statement the day before. Isabella Zuko was his ultimate aphrodisiac. All she had to do was look at him a certain way or give him that suggestive smile and he was raring to go.

"That makes you a sadist there, doesn't it, Blue Eyes?" he said, wrapping his arms around her warm waist. His lips came to nuzzle the soft spot under her jaw, hearing her laugh a bit. Her throat vibrated with the action and he kissed her shoulder. Things hadn't gotten intimate last night, but he had stayed over to spend time with her. She may have been well on her way to getting through Dante's death, but she wasn't ready for sex. Endless patience and cold showers had become customary after each date and smoldering kiss.

"Not like you're complaining," she reminded him as their lips touched briefly. His hands smoothed over the denim of her jeans, the material rough under his hands. "Mm, I gotta go into work."

"Five more minutes?" he requested against her soft mouth. She chuckled, her arms wrapping around his neck.

"Five's gonna lead to ten. Ten's gonna lead to twenty," she replied, pulling back. Her expression was reluctant as her eyes met his. Isabella's breath felt hot against his bare skin, her hands sliding down his chest. "Screw it."

Frankie's head was yanked back down, his mouth hungrily claimed by hers. He laughed low in his throat at her impatience and cupped her firm ass in his hands. They hadn't been alone in two weeks, ever since the case had started. Frankie was starting to see Isabella in a whole new light. She wasn't just the cop that was his partner/lover anymore, she was a forensic scientist and an incredibly brilliant one, at that.

His hands slid up her waist as she straddled his lap on her bed, their lips breaking apart for quick little gasps of air. Her nails raked against his scalp, their tongues mingling as he felt the silky fabric of the cups of her bra. The minute the tip of his tongue brushed against her piercing, he groaned low in his throat.

"You make it hard for me to leave," she muttered against his lips. His hands dropped from her chest, sliding down her waist. "I mean really, really hard."

"Then don't," he suggested lightly. She sat back on his lap, biting her lip. Her dark hair hung down her shoulders, her ice-blue eyes darkened a shade with utter desire. Isabella was clearly contemplating his words. "I'm off today, we haven't seen each other in days."

"I can't just call up my boss and tell him I don't feel like going into work, that's irresponsible," she told him finally. He chuckled a bit, his hands resting on her hips. "No matter how badly I wish I could just stay here."

"You miss working with me?" he asked. Her mouth twisted in thought, her lips swollen from the heat of his kisses.

"Sometimes. I mostly miss hanging out in the car with you and our simultaneous days off," she admitted. She kissed from his throat to his lips gently. "Because then we don't get interrupted." Usually, she was ashamed of the scar that ran from one side of her torso to the other in a long, jagged line. Now, she was able to show the battle scar to him without reservations.

"I'd better let you go before I try to keep you here," he finally said. She leaned over and picked up her work cell, dialing a number.

"I'll see if I'm on secondary call. If not, I gotta leave in about ten minutes."

"Hey, Chuck, it's Detective Pacino," she said, her voice polite and professional. Frankie was surprised at the use of her maiden name. Had she decided to go back to it? Pacino wasn't exactly a good name to walk around Boston with. "Yeah, I'm on secondary call today, aren't I?"

She was quiet for a moment until a smile spread across her face. After a moment, she hung up.

"He's going to call me when there's a scene," she informed him. Her smile turned wicked as the strap of her bra fell down her shoulder. "Oops."

He rolled her onto his back. "My turn for torture," he uttered.

* * *

><p>"Mm, we are never going to wait two months for sex again," Isabella declared. Frankie chuckled as he slid his hand up her bare thigh. Once again, he had misjudged her. Those stunning blue eyes of hers were locked with his dark browns, half-closed with contentment.<p>

"We tend to have a two month hiatus, don't we?" he mused. Her dark hair was strewn across her face, so he moved it away. Frankie loved this cuddly side of his girlfriend, she had this way of making everything better in his life. If anything happened to her...

He already knew there was no one else in the world that made him feel this way, sex aside. Isabella was more than just an incredibly beautiful woman he happened to have met by chance. She was brilliant, funny, caring, loving, loyal, complex, incredibly eccentric, feisty...

Frankie loved everything about her, even her flaws. Like her short-temper, her presumptuous nature, her jealousy, her trust issues, every single scar etched onto her pale, beautiful skin. He loved their tight bond, their strong, deep connection.

"I love you, you know that, right?" Isabella said. He loved her thick Queens accent, when her eyes lit up at something familiar, like music or sports.

"I love you, too. You know _that, _right?" he countered. She smiled as his forehead touched hers. He had known from the start of their relationship, that there would never be another woman like her.

"Yep," she replied. His mouth closed over hers, his hands steering down on the length of her skin. "I'm enjoying my relaxation time."

"I'm enjoying it, too," he agreed. She nestled closer to him, her lips fastening on the little spot on his neck that drove him absolutely nuts. "Ready for round two?"

"Two months early?" she teased. Isabella ran her hand through her dark hair as she sat up. Her phone was beeping. "But I gotta be at work in half an hour. I now have to shower again before I get dressed again because _someone_-" she told him, poking his nose. "Not mentioning any names, but they decided to distract me."

He sat up, his lips closing on her bare shoulder. "I will go and leave you to your work," he told her. She cupped his face in her small hands, pressing a kiss to his mouth. God, the things that woman could do with her mouth...

"I love you, Blue Eyes," he told her as she stood up, groping around for her clothes. Isabella's smile dazzled him as she scooped up her towel. Their lips brushed again as she looked down at him.

"Love you too, Bruins," she replied.


	51. New Partners

_**A/N: Boy, once again, I don't think I've ever written any people better for each other than Izzy and Frankie. I'm thinking about writing a series of M-rated oneshots about these two...any thoughts? By the way, a friend of mine is making a poster for this story, so massive thanks to her!  
><strong>_

_**Happy Thanksgiving!  
><strong>_

_**Rain: I know, right? Time for a party! I can't believe I made it to fifty chapters, which officially makes this story my second-longest running...ever. I get so caught up in writing it, I forget to check my chapter numbers. Torture is indeed fun when you're inflicting it ;D I feel so terrible for what I did to Izzy. She's definitely in need of some fluff! Do you forgive me for leaving this story in the lurch now? **_

* * *

><p><em>Better watch out, I'm going for the knockout<em>

_And I won't stop till I'm on top now_

_Not gonna give up until I get what's mine_

_Better check that I'm about to obtain_

_And I'm hot now, so you'd better step back_

_I'm taking over, so watch me shine  
><em>

Joanna Pacitti - Watch Me Shine

* * *

><p>Isabella pulled out the list of caretakers for Richard Capone, her eyes scanning the names. She would have to collect elimination samples from each and every one of them until she got a match. Of course, it had to be voluntary. She dialed Frost's number into her work cell and held it to her ear.<p>

"Hey, Frost, can you give me the list of the beneficiaries? I'm going to cross-reference it with the list of caretakers I have here, so I know who to take elimination samples from," she requested.

_"Sure thing, Zuko, just give me a minute," _Frost replied. Isabella had gone back to using her maiden name, Pacino. It was her way of moving on and letting go of the past.

"Pacino," she reminded him. When he gave her the list, she typed them into the computer. "Thanks."

She played with her tongue ring, her fingers drumming on the table-top as the machine scanned the names.

"Detective Pacino?" she heard someone ask. Isabella looked over and saw a tall, lanky man with scruffy, unkempt dark brown hair. His uncertain hazel eyes met hers as he smirked a bit. "I'm your new partner, Patrick Sullivan." He extended a hand. Isabella shook it with a smile.

"So, you're my new partner," she commented. "Call me Isabella."

She had looked over his record personally and was impressed with it. In Seattle, he had single-handedly apprehended the head of a Colombian drug cartel, bringing in evidence worth about ten million dollars.

"I've read your file," he said, looking up at her. "Your work on the Wilder gang bust was very impressive."

Isabella smiled wryly as she raised her eyebrow at him. "It was mostly my ex-partner's work," she corrected. "One hundred million dollars worth of cocaine and taking down one of the largest gangs in New York history."

The computer beeped, matching Michelle Harris to the list. She was to receive two hundred and fifty thousand dollars in the event that Richard Capone deceased. Isabella ran a background check, rubbing her tongue ring on the roof of her mouth. She was twenty-seven years old, a tall, slinky blonde with big blue eyes. Of course.

She was a registered orderly at a retirement home.

* * *

><p>Patrick proved to be an interesting partner, to say the least. Right off the bat, Isabella learned about his playboy nature. He had sneaked three physical compliments to her in four different conversations. Patrick Sullivan was definitely no Frankie Rizzoli.<p>

"So, what do you think about dinner tonight, Blue Eyes?" Patrick asked. That was when Isabella decided to put her foot down. Absolutely _no one_ was allowed to refer to her as 'Blue Eyes.'

"First of all, that is an inappropriate nickname," she informed him. "Second of all, I am your boss and we barely know each other."

He smirked. "Hey, a guy's gotta try, right?" he remarked. She frowned deeply, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel.

"Thirdly, we are both professionals," she ignored his comment.

"So, no dinner date tonight?" he surmised. She rolled her eyes and took an exasperated breath.

"I have a boyfriend," she replied easily. _A boyfriend who I _could _be seeing if it was my day off, but with a new job comes a new responsibility. _ When they pulled into the parking lot of the retirement home and slammed the doors to the car shut, she turned to him. "So no, no dinner date."

His smirk remained on his face. "Beaus never mattered to me, honey," he told her. Isabella pursed her lips.

"Well, he matters to me," she responded. Patrick held open the door to the building for her to pass. She walked past him, her dark ponytail swinging as she walked. "He matters to me more than anything," she muttered under her breath.

The Sunny Skies Retirement Home reminded her of the movie RED (Retired Extremely Dangerous) or on House Bunny. Elderly people were scattered around the dim room, a TV was parked in the middle of the floor. Hard floors that made sneaking damn near impossible...

But mostly, they looked sad. Isabella could feel the sadness and heartache in the room like a plague.

"Excuse me, can I help you?" a male voice asked. She turned and saw a short, stocky African-American man in his early-to-mid-fifties. "I'm Franklin Stone, owner of this establishment."

"I'm Detective Isabella Pacino, this is Detective Patrick Sullivan. We're with the Boston PD and we're here to ask one of your orderlies a question," she said, holding up her badge. "Is Michelle Harris here?"

He nodded. "Come with me, detectives."

* * *

><p>The break room wasn't much worse than the upstairs. It was smoke-filled, dark, only illuminated by a florescent overhead light.<p>

"Hey, Shelley, you got someone here to see ya," Franklin called. Isabella watched from the doorway as a blonde poured her coffee. Glancing down at the DMV photo, she knew it was her.

"Michelle Harris, Boston PD," she said, holding up her badge. "We're here to ask a couple of questions regarding Richard Capone."

Michelle's head raised and she bolted for the door, throwing the Styrofoam cup. The hot coffee nailed Isabella in the chest, scalding her skin.

"Fuck!" she snarled. Whipping her head towards the other exit, she tore after the other woman. When Michelle came into view, running for the back exit, Isabella ran harder. She lunged, tackling down the other woman.

Her jaw stung as Michelle took a swing at her. Isabella flipped her onto her stomach, pulling the cuffs out of her belt. She slapped them on and jerked the other woman to her feet.

"Police brutality!" Michelle squalled as she was pushed outside.

"Shut the hell up," Isabella told her. "Otherwise, I might be tempted to tape ya mouth shut."


	52. Welcome To Existence

_**A/N: Okay, now that I've updated "Won't Back Down," I keep getting ideas for it. What is this? But! Go on my profile for the poster of "Won't Back Down," made by my friend Silent. MASSIVE THANKS TO HER! It looks amazing!  
><strong>_

_**Rain: It's because Izzy is hot ;D For Patrick Sullivan, look up Joe Flanigan for him. And yay! I had a feeling you'd want that series ;D Frankie's so hot in a cutesy, boyish way. That's what I love about him! Flack's got that smoldering, boyish sex appeal that I just...aah, I love it! And yes, Patrick calling Izzy 'Blue Eyes' is something she cannot stand. No one can call her that but Frankie! Izzy is just a lot for Frankie to handle, but never too much ;D **_

* * *

><p><em>Welcome to the planet<em>

_Welcome to existence_

_Everyone's here_

_Everyone's here_

_Everybody's watching you now_

_Everybody waits for you now_

Switchfoot - I Dare You To Move

* * *

><p>It was Isabella's long-awaited day off. Her shoulders were tense, her body was drained...<p>

But of course, a simple day off just wouldn't do. Teagan had fallen ill and the baby was suffering for it. Since she was close enough to her eighth month, the doctors decided it would be a good idea to induce her labor.

"Izzy, I want you to promise me something," Teagan whispered in the hospital room, her hand on her rounded stomach. Her blue eyes were sunken in, her porcelain pale skin a thousand times paler. Even her hair seemed to lack its usual, healthy sheen. "Promise me you'll take care of my baby if something happens."

Isabella fought the urge to roll her eyes as she clasped her sister's hand. "You got it, kid," she replied. Teagan rubbed her worry-stricken eyes.

"I'm just so worried," she murmured. "Dean's been trying to contact me, I'm just scared he'll show up in Boston."

"No one outside of the family knows you're here," Isabella assured her. The urge to protect her unborn nephew and her sister was nearly overwhelming. "And if Dean Moriarti shows up, I'll toss his ass out by the scruff of his neck."

There was a soft knock on the door and Isabella looked up. Her mother and Mitch stood in the doorway, clearly uncertain.

"Daddy," Teagan breathed. The sentiment struck a jealous chord in Isabella's heart as she looked away.

"I'm going to get something to eat, I'll be back and leave you three alone," she said, standing up. "Call me when they move you."

Isabella fiddled with the Styrofoam cup of coffee she held in her hands. Teagan was starting at the lab in two months as a lab tech. It gave her time to bond with the baby and find a place to keep it while she worked during the day.

"You alright?" she heard Levi ask. Isabella looked up at him and shrugged, setting the cup between her knees.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," she replied. Her dark hair hung in her face as she stared at the wall. "Mitch is in the room."

Her older brother was silent as he sat down next to her. "How do you feel about that?" he asked. Isabella could feel his dark eyes on her and she tapped the edge of her cup.

"I'm not sure," she admitted. The sound of her phone beeping caught her attention. Teagan was going to deliver soon.

* * *

><p>Liam Connor Doyle was five pounds, seven ounces and about fifteen inches long. The little baby was finally stable enough to be held with skin-on-skin contact, but very gently. Isabella tucked him against her chest, feeling awfully exposed at standing in NICU in her bra. Liam let out a little squeak as he nestled closer to her, grunting softly.<p>

"Hey, pretty baby," Isabella murmured to her nephew. "'Bout time you got here."

"His vitals look good, he seems to respond well to your touch," the doctor commented as she accepted the baby from her. Isabella pulled her top back on, smoothing it out over her stomach.

"Anything I can do to help," she replied with a smile. She couldn't kiss Liam's soft, nearly translucent skin before she left. The only thing she could do was give a little wave with her fingertips.

"You'll be back later, won't you?" Dr. Fisher asked. Isabella nodded, her eyes on the tiny little baby.

"I'll be back in the morning," she promised. Right now, she needed to get some rest and food. Her body was physically drained and sleep sounded pretty damn good after being in the hospital for twelve hours.

But right now, she didn't want to sleep alone. Isabella pulled out her phone in the hospital parking lot, sending Frankie a text.

_Mind if I stop by to sleep? Teags had the baby._

The response was five minutes later.

_Front door's unlocked._

Isabella pulled up to his house, parking the truck. It was like dragging her entire body weight on her shoulders as she slipped in the front door. Eleven o'clock at night and she had been away from him for a week. She slid her jeans onto the floor and crawled onto the bed beside Frankie. His arms slid around her, nestling her closer to him. She felt his lips touch her bare shoulder, his hand on her hip.

"How's your sister?" he mumbled sleepily. Isabella yawned in response, her eyelids fluttering shut.

"They're getting her stable," she replied. Another yawn. "Liam's in Neonatal Intensive Care."

"That's good," Frankie muttered. Sleep finally overwhelmed her as she slipped away.


	53. Obsession

_**A/N: Okay, so I figured I could either update this story or write another one-shot (*wink wink*) But right now, I need to bring Diego back, so people don't think I just forgot about him...  
><strong>_

_**Rain: Ooh, you lucky girl! Frankie and Don are my boys, I can't seem to pick one over the other! Teagan is not going to die, I assure you. Pregnancy makes you more susceptible to illnesses and that was just one of those things. Teagan is also a very paranoid woman, so she just wants to make sure that her baby's taken care of! Liam is going to be so cute *Less than three* I love writing Izzy as a protective auntie, she just makes me smile! As for Rizzuko, it just slips off the tongue easier!**_

* * *

><p><em>Every breath you take<br>And every move you make  
>Every bond you break<br>Every step you take  
>I'll be watching you<br>_

_Oh, can't you see?  
>You belong to me<br>_

The Police - Every Breath You Take

* * *

><p>Diego watched his prey with vengeful eyes from his sedan. It was almost a shame to kill her, really. Isabella was a rather striking woman, with her big, blue eyes, her wavy dark hair that hung down her back...<p>

Diego had always adored her from afar. He could watch the sensuous sway of her hips as she walked for hours. From the day he had lain eyes on her, he knew he wanted her. Whether or not it was just sex he wanted or possession of this rare specimen of incredible beauty, he didn't know. He wanted to know what it was like to have that supple, inviting flesh against his, to hear her whimper as he pleasured her...

But Frankie Rizzoli Jr was a thorn in his side. Of course, Isabella had once again paid Diego no mind, in favor of the homicide detective. What a laugh it was, for her to think she could escape Diego Vasquez! Mario had warned him to stay away from Isabella, but that request was the equivalent of a fiery torment.

If he couldn't have her, no one could. Plain and simple. Of course, Diego would have to kill himself afterward. If they couldn't be together in life, they would be together in death. His beloved deserved the best sort of death, if she were to perish by his hands...

* * *

><p>"Victim has no ID," Frost commented from his memo pad.<p>

Isabella saw the dark-haired woman strewn out on her stomach, her hair splayed around. Dried blood pooled out from a bullet hole in her forehead, her sightless blue eyes glazed over. Her clothes were missing, except for a pair of tattered pink panties, a gag in her mouth.

"She's been brutally raped," Frankie commented. Isabella let out a snort.

"Wow, nice detective work," she replied sarcastically. "Nothing gets past you."

"I'd estimate time of death to be about four am," Maura informed them. Isabella jotted it down and pointed to the body's position.

"Dump job; body's sprawled out in a supine position," she said, bending down next to the body. She pulled her camera and snapped photos of it, positioning the camera in different angles. "Help me flip her."

When the body was rolled over, Isabella could see carving on the victim's torso. "You belong to me."

"What do you think that means?" Frankie asked. Isabella chuckled as she set the camera around her neck.

"It's our job to find out," she reminded him. She stood up and studied the dead woman's body. Finally, she glanced up at him and saw his eyes looking from the victim to her, a look of comprehensive horror on his face. "You okay, Bruins?"

He slowly nodded. "Yeah," he replied. Finally, his dark brown eyes met hers. "She looks like you."

Isabella hadn't seen the resemblance until now. She pulled out her measuring tape, stretching it from Jane Doe's head to her foot. Five feet, two inches. Her exact height.

"We're around the same height, have dark hair and blue eyes. That's about the only resemblances we have," she tried to write it off. She also lived four blocks from the crime scene.

"It is sort of spooky," Frost agreed, tilting his head around to look at both the victim and the CSI.

"You also live four blocks from here," Frankie pointed out, clearly concerned. Isabella rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, so?" she prompted. "This is just a hideous coincidence."

"A very, very disturbing coincidence," Frost added. He pulled out his ringing cellphone and held it to his ear. "Frost. Yeah, I got Pacino here. By the way, is your victim short, around five foot two, with dark hair? She is? Open her eye and tell me what eye color it is? Blue? Tied, shot, gagged, and raped up..."

When he hung up, he pointed to Isabella. "This victim was found two blocks away," he informed her. Cold fear washed over her. "We have a serial killer on our hands and you fit his MO."

* * *

><p>Isabella swallowed back her fear as she ran the bullet through IBUS, Patrick on the DNA from the two victims. She had about twenty minutes before the search would be complete.<p>

Meanwhile, Maura had the cause of death.

"I'm going to go out on a limb here and say the cause of death was a fatal gunshot wound to the frontal lobe," Isabella called as she walked into the autopsy.

"She's right," Maura confirmed. Frankie's turn to applaud sarcastically.

"And this was my training detective," he said with a raise of his eyebrow. "Captain Obvious."

Isabella stuck her tongue out at her boyfriend. "Screw you, Sergeant Sarcasm."

"But yes, both victims have the same cause of death," Maura stated, going back to the bodies. "The wounds on the torso were made with precision and deliberation."

"Would you say we have a serial killer?" Isabella asked. She glanced down at her pager. DNA came back. "DNA came back to our Jane Doe as a Mariah Kelley, locked up for solicitation."

"It's hard to say whether or not we have a serial killer until I finish my autopsy," Maura replied to the petite CSI's first question. Isabella looked down at her phone, nearly dropping it onto the floor at the name the DNA came from the semen collected from both victims.

"Oh, my God," she said, her hand flying to her mouth. It all made sense now.

Why the victims were both petite females with dark hair and blue eyes.

Their killer/rapist was Diego Vasquez.


	54. Safe

_**A/N: OH MY GOD IT'S DIEGO OOOOOO: I did just do that xD I may write another 'Rizzuko' story. Thoughts? Anyways, fluff warning!**_

_**Rain: There could be some babysitting moments, but I'm not sure yet lol. And I'm always ending things in an exciting place! Hope you continue to enjoy!  
><strong>_

* * *

><p><em>Because of you, I never stray too far from the sidewalk<em>

_Because of you, I learned to play on the safe side_

_So I don't get hurt_

_Because of you, I try my hardest just to forget everything_

_Because of you, I don't know how to let anyone else in  
><em>

Kelly Clarkson - Because Of You

* * *

><p>"Diego Vasquez is psychotic. He's actually killing women who <em>look <em>like me!" Isabella complained as she flopped onto Frankie's couch. Teagan was staying under police watch at an undisclosed location. She didn't even know where her own sister was.

"They're going to get him, you need to calm down before you have an aneurysm," he told her. She rolled her eyes, running a hand through her hair. Her nerves were frayed, her shoulders were almost in pain from the tension...

Isabella hadn't slept in a day and a half, for fear she would be stalked right when she was most vulnerable. Chachi was with her everywhere she went, from the bathroom to the store. The overprotective Rottweiler was her saving grace.

"He's turning me into a victim all over again, Frankie!" she shrieked. The fear was fast turning into mind-numbing, blood-freezing panic. "I can't go anywhere without having to look over my shoulder or my dog being right there with me. I haven't slept, I can't eat..."

All he did was hold out his arms and sit next to her. "I saw this on TV once," he explained. "Come here." Slowly, she crept onto his lap and felt his arms crush around her.

"What is this going to accomplish besides making my lungs collapse?" she asked. He chuckled and kissed her hairline, his strong grip loosening slightly.

"It sends endorphins rushing through the bloodstream, I guess," he replied. She could feel the tension alleviating as she nestled closer. "See? You do need me."

Isabella craned her neck up to kiss his cheek. "Never said I didn't," she replied smoothly. He rubbed her back soothingly and her head rested on his chest, hearing the strong, steady beat of his heart behind his ribs. Diego couldn't hurt Frankie. She wouldn't let him.

"Sleep, Blue Eyes," Frankie told her. She felt safer than she had felt in weeks, here in his arms. "I'll be here when you wake up, I promise."

* * *

><p><em>She was strapped to a chair in a dark room. A single light hung from the ceiling, slightly illuminating the room. Isabella could see Diego's silhouette and her heart nearly stopped.<em>

_"How many more will die before you realize that you belong to me?" he asked darkly, twirling the 9mm around his large fingers. She stuck her chin out defiantly, her ice-blue eyes following his every move. _

_"I'll never belong to you," she snarled at him. Sharp pain stung her cheek as his hand flew. She could taste the coppery flavor of blood in her mouth as the tip of her tongue touched the corner of her lip. _

_"How many more will die before you realize that you belong to me?" he repeated, emphasizing each word. He pointed into the shadows. "Maybe you need incentive." Diego disappeared into the darkness and pulled out someone. In horror, Isabella recognized Frankie._

_"No, please. Don't hurt him," she whimpered as he pointed the gun at him. "No!" _

_"Beg for his life," Diego commanded. The tears rolled down her face freely as she sobbed an unintelligible plea for her love's life. "So I can hear you."_

_"Please don't, I'm begging you," she cried. "Please, Diego!" A sick smile curved on his face as his finger curled around the trigger and the sound resonated in her ears.  
><em>

Isabella felt herself being shaken as she woke up. Frankie's eyes were on hers, alight with concern.

"Isabella! Wake up!" he told her. Tears rolled down her face as she buried her face into his chest. She sobbed her relief into his dark blue shirt as he rubbed her back. "Shh, it was only a dream, it wasn't real."

"Thank God," she murmured into the material. He constricted his arms around her again, murmuring words of comfort.

"What happened?" he asked, smoothing out her silky, dark hair. Her head lifted and wiped her eyes, sniffling again.

"Diego killed you," her voice broke at the end. His face fell at her words, until he finally chuckled. Frankie took her hand, pressing it to his chest. Isabella could feel his heart beating against her palm.

"Feel that?" he said. She nodded slowly, her gaze dropping to her hand. "I'm not dead."

"I know," she whispered.

* * *

><p>Frankie could feel how exhausted and ragged she was as she nestled as close as humanly possible to his side. A sign, he knew, that she felt safe, like nothing bad could ever happen to her as long as he was around.<p>

Isabella trusted him. The realization startled him. For so long, she didn't trust anyone, but now, she had to trust him. Frankie was the only thing standing between her and Diego Vasquez, her personal tormentor.

He heard her phone ring. Isabella stirred in her sleep, her head lifting.

"Go back to sleep," he told her. Her head rested back on his chest, letting out a sleepy sigh. He slid his hand into her pockets to find her phone before pulling it out of her side pocket. Jane's name flashed on her screen. "Hey, Jane, Izzy's sleepin'."

_"I just wanted to see how she was holding up," _Jane explained. _"Glad she's getting some rest."_

"She's exhausted," he replied. Isabella sighed in her sleep again, her arm moving on his torso. "Hold on, I think she's waking up."


	55. A New Case

_**A/N: Johnny Dangerously is a hilarious movie. That is all. OHHHH! And I talked to Sunny, and she's letting me use Cheyenne Webber. Big, huge, beautiful, sexy thanks to you, babe!  
><strong>_

_**Rain: Ooh, yay! I wish I had cable period! I'm staying at my sister Britt's house and she only has Netflix. But at my sister Ericka's, I get satellite TV with DVR. Yeah, guess where I like staying better lol. I actually saw that thing Frankie said on Grey's Anatomy. It made a lot of sense, so I decided to use it. My week has been pretty uneventful, so I'm pretty happy that at least one of us had something good happen to them! I sort of fell out of watching CSI:NY for the past few weeks, I've been so busy. But today, I'm spending it getting caught up!  
><strong>_

* * *

><p><em>Where are the people that accused me?<em>

_The ones that beat me down and bruised me?_

_They hide just out sight_

_Can't face me in the light_

_They'll return but I'll be stronger  
><em>

Fireflight - Unbreakable

* * *

><p>To keep her mind off of the Diego Vasquez murders, Isabella had been assigned to the murder of a wealthy jewelry appraiser at an auction. Frankie and Korsak were her responding detectives, the ones she took results to. A new CSI had just passed her exam and had an incredible letter of recommendation from her professors at BCU. Isabella had her application and resume and knew she wanted this woman on her team.<p>

"Are you Detective Pacino?" a woman asked. Isabella stood up from the victim's body and looked up. The woman was tall and slender, with dirty blonde hair and large brown eyes. She was very attractive, her lean body clad conservatively in black and gray pinstripe trousers and a pale pink blouse with ladylike black ballet flats.

"Yes, I am," Isabella answered. This woman didn't appear to be a reporter, but a crime scene kit hung from her hand. It was her new CSI. "You must be Detective Webber."

"Call me Chey," she replied, holding out her hand. Isabella grasped the hand and shook it.

"This is Detective Frankie Rizzoli and Sergeant Detective Vince Korsak," she informed her, gesturing the two detectives over to them. "Frankie, Korsak, this is my new CSI, Chey Webber."

She shook hands with Korsak shyly before Frankie walked up with his memo pad. It briefly reminded her of Don.

"Victim's name is Alexander Grant, he's forty-two years old," he said. Isabella bent back down next to the victim, looking at the large caliber bullet wound in his stomach. The sight of it threw her back to Tillary's Diner in New York, when Detective Angell died. She closed her eyes and shook her head to clear it. Jess was long gone.

"Large caliber bullet," she commented. "Tell the unis to canvass the area and look for a large caliber gun consistent with a .45 or a .50."

She snapped photos of the body and stood up again. Her gaze lifted to meet Chey's dark browns.

"You stay here with the body until someone identifying themselves as Dr. Jameson Welch. When that happens, you radio me and I will come back," she told her. "Right now, I'm going to check for points of entry."

* * *

><p>Isabella shined her flashlight around the entrance and exits of the building, pursing her lips. Surveillance videos had been compromised, people had seen a fat-load of nothing. But the sound had been terrifying. She shook her head again, trying to fight the memories of it.<p>

_The pancakes had been well-worth the fight for the morning off as Isabella walked into Tillary's Diner. She nodded a greeting to Jess as she lifted her hand in a wave. The other woman smiled in greeting, her phone tucked against her ear. Connor Dunbrook was seated in a booth, surrounded by cops. _

_"Oh, wait, Izzy's here," Jess was saying as she waved to her. "See? It's not just me." Her voice lowered an octave as she turned away. Isabella chuckled and shook her head as she stood in line at the counter. She had already ordered takeout and came to pick it up. Chocolate chip pancakes she would be sharing with her husband. The wedding band sparkled in the lights overhead and she smiled a bit. The sound of a loud crash cut through the restaurant as she looked in bewilderment. Men jumped out of a truck, firing off their weapons._

_"NPYD!" Isabella screamed, taking fire at the men. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Jess fall onto the ground. Isabella's bullets tagged one of the men, nailing him in the shoulder and abdomen. Fire raced through her veins as one tagged her shoulder. But adrenaline took over as she raced for her fallen friend. Applying pressure to the gaping wound in the woman's stomach, she started murmuring to her. "Jess, you'll be okay, help is on its way."_

_Isabella remembered sitting with Don after receiving the news of her friend's death. _

_"She's gone, Izzy," Don said. It was one of the only times she had seen him cry as he cried like a baby into her shoulder. _

Isabella still bore the bullet-scar on her shoulder, she had been lucky to not have died. The .50 caliber hollow-point bullet at a distance should have severed her subclavien artery and her cause of death would have been exsanguination due to a deadly gunshot wound.

"You alright?" Frankie's voice cut through her thoughts. Isabella looked up and nodded, taking a deep breath.

"Gunshot victims always bring back memories," she admitted.

"You've dealt with a case like this, right?" he commented teasingly. She smirked a bit before shining it over an open vent system. He had always joked about her abundance of knowledge because of experience in former cases.

"Mm, there have been similarities," she answered ominously. A severed rope hung from the top of the low ceiling. "Think you can lift me?"

"Maybe," Frankie replied. "You don't weigh that much." Isabella held onto him for leverage as he took her foot in his hand, boosting her up into the air.

"A little higher, please," she requested. When she could shine her light and see through the vents, she climbed off his hand and into the vent. "Thanks for the lift, Bruins."

"I've always meant to ask why you call me that," he said. She crawled a bit through the vent.

"Because it's my way of poking fun at you for messing with my sports teams," she answered. "Why do you call me Blue Eyes?"

"Guess," he stated. She let out a laugh as she poked her head down.

"It couldn't be because I have blue eyes, could it?" she joked. "Because we all know they're green."

"I dunno, I think they might be brown," he bantered back. Isabella lowered herself more.

"This is how the killer got in and out," she informed him. "No prints, I would be able to catch epithelial DNA on the metal. Killer wore gloves, but I might be able to get fibers from here."

"Need help getting down?" Frankie asked. Isabella twisted her mouth in thought, gauging the drop. For her, it would be about nine feet.

"If you don't mind," she replied. He held out his arms and she slowly lowered herself out of the vent.

"Go ahead and let go, I got you," he told her. Isabella could see about a good twelve inches until she reached his arms and she took a deep breath. "Trust time, Blue Eyes." She finally released the ledge and tumbled to the ground, landing on his stomach. Their faces were inches apart as she giggled. "Hi, there."

"Have we met before?" he joked. She climbed off of Frankie's stomach and held her hands out for him. He stood up next to her. "You go get your kit, I'll track down a ladder for you."

Isabella smiled a bit. "Go team," she replied easily.

"


	56. Trigger

_**A/N: I freaking love writing this story C:**_

_**Rain: I know, I was finally able to talk to Sunny! She hasn't been online lately, and I don't have my phone to text her. It broke my heart to watch that ep, because I hated seeing Don cry. I figured they could have a real bantering session, it's good to write them as something other than such an intense couple. You're welcome too lol.**_

* * *

><p><em>And you can see my heart beating<em>

_You can see it through my chest_

_That I'm terrified, but I'm not leaving_

_I know that I must pass this test_

_So just pull the trigger  
><em>

Rihanna - Russian Roulette

* * *

><p>"Hold on, my phone's ringing," Isabella said as she pulled it from its holster attached to the front of her belt. She frowned at the screen before sliding her finger across the screen to answer. "Pacino."<p>

_"Long time, no talk, honeybee," a man's thick Italian accent commented. _Isabella nearly dropped her phone into her lunch in shock. It was her father.

"How did you get this number?" she asked. In all honesty, her father was one of the last people she wanted to talk to. She had absolutely no desire to even utter his name.

_"I wanted to speak to you," Armando replied. _Isabella gritted her teeth, trying to smother her anger. _"I know that Diego is after you and I am coming to Boston."_

"I have people here than can help me, thank you," she snapped icily. Armando Pacino was the absolute last person she wanted to see, next to Diego.

_"I can help you, Isabella, please let me help you," he pleaded. _She had always loved hearing her father's rich, deep, baritone voice and an intriguing laugh.

"I don't need your help," she informed him. "Besides, you weren't able to help me growing up for obvious reasons, what makes you think you can help me now?"

_"I have resources in Boston, people who owe me many, many favors," Armando replied ominously. _Isabella let out a shaky breath, internally shuddering at the thought of just what those favors were. The Pacino family held power all over New England, many feared them. _"I will not stand down while this monstrosity wreaks havoc over that city, not when people know you are a Pacino."_

Taking care of Diego would reaffirm a Pacino's place as a Mafia member.

"Don't be a vigilante," she warned. "I'd hate to have to put you away."

_"Even though I haven't been there for you since you were seventeen?" he said softly. _She sighed a bit, running her free hand through her hair. Lunch with Jane, Frankie, Maura, Frost, and Korsak was turning into a bust.

"Yeah, but I'm being rude, so I have to go," she told him. After a brief goodbye, she slid her phone back onto her belt.

"Who was that?" Frankie asked. Isabella shook her head, stabbing a bite of her salad with her fork.

"Never mind," she replied shortly, the lump in her throat bringing tears to her eyes. The tears blurred her vision, irritating her contact lenses as she stood up and walked briskly down the hall. She shoved open the door to the bathroom and pulled out her contact lenses case. Her lower lip trembled as she sniffled, trying to keep the tears from trickling down her cheeks as she took out the lenses, placing them in the case.

Fifteen and a half years. That was the amount of time she hadn't seen, let alone spoken to, her father. She splashed cold water on her face as she heard a knock on the door.

"Isabella? It's Frankie," a muffled voice was heard on the other side of the door. "Are you okay, Blue Eyes?"

"Not really," she replied. She wiped her eyes with a paper towel, its grainy texture chafing on her tear-stained face. Isabella tossed the paper towel into the garbage and rifled through her bag, hunting for her concealer. "I don't want to talk about it."

The head of the Pacino crime family, the most powerful and influential Italian Mafia family in New York history was coming to Boston. Armando had connections to drugs from all over the world. Isabella knew he was close friends with the biggest drug lord in Colombia. If word spread that he was there...

Diego wouldn't be able to resist going after either one of them. The thought put a smile on her face. She wrenched the door open and saw Frankie standing with Maura and Jane.

"I know how we can get Diego Vasquez and take him down."

* * *

><p>"This is the stupidest idea I have ever heard," Frankie declared. It felt utterly wrong to use Isabella as bait. The last time they had done that, they had nearly lost her.<p>

"This will work, because we now have two people he's after," Isabella pointed out. Frankie looked at the man standing next to her, still in disbelief. Armando Pacino was her father. He was a very tall man, with jet-black hair slicked back. His nearly-black eyes were on his daughter, his strong jaw set. It was clear the two were related, both carrying themselves the same way.

"It still doesn't feel right," Frankie replied. The silence in the room was awkward after the news of their relationship had been spoken aloud. A few had muttered that they knew it, Sheila Archer in utter disbelief over it. Isabella had a smug look on her face, a clear 'fuck-you' to the Vice cop.

"You think it feels right to me?" she said quietly. "Right now, my instincts are screaming at me 'Dear God, what the hell are you doing?'"

"What if it doesn't work? I mean, this guy's smart. He might use someone else to take care of your dad while-" he cut himself off. No one else knew who Armando was, with the exception of Frost, Korsak, Patrick, Jane, and himself. Armando had brought a small cavalry with him, his four sons. Isabella's brothers whom she had never met.

Frankie had met Levi and liked him. Levi was a good man who genuinely seemed to love his sister, only caring for her well-being.

"I'm terrified right now," she admitted gently. "But this is something I have to do."


	57. Say Goodbye

**_A/N: Finally back home where I have my computer!_**

**_Rain: Yeah, Armando's kind of a jackass, but he really loves Izzy. I think Levi will be in this story a bit more, you know me. I just love him! But yes, I'll write more of 'Those Special Moments' when I get some time lol. _**

* * *

><p><em>Razor wire gift-wraps the things we've done<em>

_Afterthoughts of past storms weathered before_

_Oh no! Oh no! I watched the clouds roll in_

_Oh no! Oh no! It's happening again!  
><em>

Atreyu - Storm To Pass

* * *

><p>The crack of gunfire was soothing to Isabella as she poised her 9mm to take a shot, to work on her aim. Of course, she had done a bit of overkill, the paper completely burned to bits.<p>

"Now, what did that poor target do to you?" she heard Korsak tease as she pulled off the muffs. Isabella chuckled, tightening her ponytail.

"It ain't Diego, that's what it did to me," she responded, loading the magazine with more practice bullets. "If I wanted to make a man squirm, I could aim low, but that'd just be cruel."

"You've got a hell of a shot," he commented, looking at the chart. She smirked as she set the gun down.

"Lots and lots of practice," she replied smoothly.

"When are you going to New York?" Korsak asked. Isabella shrugged, sighing deeply.

"I leave tomorrow and I'll be gone until Diego's found and either killed or put away," she replied. It was going to be hell to be away from Frankie _yet again_. "It beats being bait and hey, I get to see more of my surrogate family. That's always good."

"Yeah, it is," he agreed. She gestured him to walk with her as she left the firing range. "You gonna see Flack?"

Isabella raised her eyebrow as she looked up at him. "Why wouldn't I?" she asked.

"It was just a question," he defended. She chuckled and set the bag down onto her desk.

"Yeah, I'm staying with him," she answered his previous question. "He's my best bet, because Danny has a family to think about. Diego will go after Flack, he can take care of himself. But I can't put anyone else through that, not when it's me and him that Diego's after."

"Who else would there have been?" he asked. She shrugged again, drumming her fingers on her desk.

"There's my dad's," she replied, chewing on the inside of her mouth. Isabella flipped folders shut and tossed it into her outbox. It was becoming a pain in the ass to continue to go between Boston and New York. "But I don't wanna get mixed up with the family."

"Very few people know you're leaving," Korsak revealed.

"That's just how I want it."

* * *

><p>Isabella slammed the back door shut on the truck before helping Chachi into the bed. She sighed and leaned against it, tightening her ponytail against the warming sun. It was almost time to leave, but she had one more task. Say goodbye to Frankie.<p>

The radio was off, the cab unusually quiet as she drove down the street. She pulled into the drive and parked it near his apartment. Isabella patted Chachi's head for a moment before walking towards the stairs.

When she reached the apartment, she reached out and knocked on the door. The door was opened a moment later.

"I'm leaving," she informed him. Frankie cupped her face in his hands and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. "I love you."

"I love you, too," he replied, resting his forehead against hers. She returned the kiss with ardor, her hands on his chest. "I'll see if I can follow soon."

"Promise?" she asked. He nodded, kissing her again.

"Promise," he confirmed.


	58. Pain

_**A/N: Monkey wrench time being told from Don's point of view.  
><strong>_

_**Rain: I know, I have been so fargin busy lately! I've been itching to write this for about...a month. It's been going over and over in my head. Actually, an AU to this story is in the works, one where it's the same storyline, but Isabella goes back to Don. Hope you like it still!**_

* * *

><p><em>I should've told you what you meant to me<em>

_Whoa, 'cause now I pay the price  
><em>

Katy Perry - The One That Got Away

* * *

><p>Don could feel his heart rate accelerating at the thought of Isabella being with him again. This time, it would stick, he would make sure of it. She was the one that had gotten away, but now, she was going to be the one that was with him forever. Isabella didn't need to work, not with that trust fund her father had set up. She could retire and be safe with him. Long ago, they had confessed to each other that they couldn't see a life with anyone else.<p>

Don couldn't see himself with anyone else to this day. Isabella was his ideal woman, his exact match in every way. If he couldn't have her, he wouldn't have anyone. That was the cold, hard truth, because he never thought of anyone else as seriously. No one knew her better than he did. Every time she faked a smile, or sat off by herself, he could feel her emotions as if they were his own. No one knew him better than she. What had made them so strong was the fact he wasn't afraid of hurting her feelings and vice versa.

"Donnie, we're home," that familiar voice singsonged. The sound of nails skittering on the floor was the second thing he heard as Chachi barreled towards him. Don was knocked onto the floor as the massive Rottweiler licked his face, wagging his entire body in utter excitement. He rubbed Chachi's head and sat up. "Aw, he missed you."

"I missed him," he commented as he stood up. His eyes rested on her petite form and could feel that ragged heartbeat in his chest again. Her dark hair was a mess, her baggy T-shirt hanging off of one shoulder. A pair of sunglasses were perched on top of her head. "I missed you."

She smiled and gave him a tight hug. "I missed you, too," she told him. How could he deal with still being in love with his best friend? He would lose her.

Isabella belonged to someone else now. That realization sat cold, hard, sour, and hollow in his heart. It felt silly to have such strong, clear feelings for someone when they were with someone else.

"C'mon, roomie, let's get you set up in the guest room," he said lightly, gesturing her into the walkway. She planted her hands on her hips, raising an eyebrow at him.

"What the hell are we, acquaintances? You know you never make me walk," she jibed at him playfully. Don bent down and scooped her up into his arms, feeling her arms loop around his neck. He walked with her down the hall, trying to focus on where he was going and not focus on her warm breath tickling his skin.

"And in here, we have the guest room. Open that door for me, will you, dear?" he said to a closed door. She giggled as she reached down for the knob. When the door flung open, he pretended to drop her onto the bed, exaggerating a fall on top of her. "Clumsy me."

Isabella's hysterical giggles were ringing in the air as she playfully slapped him off of her. After they laid there quietly for a moment, she looked up at him with that smile.

"I really did miss you. You've been such an amazing fixture in my life," she told him, her words coming out in a sigh. She was falling asleep. The poor woman had probably driven all day and half the night before arriving in New York City. Don rubbed her back, kissing her hairline as she nestled closer to him.

"Shh, just go to sleep," he murmured. When he felt Isabella go limp, he sighed deeply. This was complete, total, utter torture. He was in the friend zone, something that had never happened to him before. Women would throw themselves at him, and he loved being with women, but he loved Isabella above all. Ever since third grade, when he had met her on the playground at recess while playing kickball, he had had a crush on her.

He still had the CD containing his song. For his eighteenth birthday, Isabella had composed a song for him on the piano. She had played it for him in private before giving him the CD of her compositions and performances. It was one of Don's most treasured possessions. Devon had tried to throw it out on more than one occasion, breaking it once. It held incredible sentimental value for him, one he refused to throw away.

Don had no idea how long he had lain there alongside Isabella, staring at the wall. Chachi was curled up on his other side, snoring louder than a boat engine.

He knew that this felt right, deep down in his heart. There was no one else who could ever make him feel this way.


	59. Arguments

_**A/N: I've had very little time nowadays...I apologize! My time may be taken AGAIN..but who knows?**_

_**Rain: Yeah, I tried not to make it possessive...but I guess I sorta did, didn't I? *sheepish head rub* But in the AU story of 'Won't Back Down', there is no more Rizzuko, so don't hate me! And I LOVE 'The One That Got Away'...loved it the first time I heard it! I haven't seen the promo for the season finale yet, don't tell me anything! Frankie will get his shit together and haul ass to New York, I will tell you lol. Hope you like this chapter!**_

* * *

><p><em>I've got to take a chance<em>

_Or let it pass by_

_If I expect to get on with my life  
><em>

Travis Tritt - Anymore (I love this song. Seriously. One of my faves)

* * *

><p>Frankie had been pulled off the case and kept under Frost's watch, which drove him utterly insane. His co-workers were paranoid. No e-mail, no phone calls, no text messages. Diego wasn't smart enough to tap into things to find out where Isabella was. The minute he figured out Isabella left Boston, he'd head for New York.<p>

"Has anyone heard from Izzy?" Frankie asked to no one in particular. He hadn't spoken to her in a week, the waiting was driving him nuts.

"Okay, that's the third time you've asked in the span of ten minutes. If we didn't speak to her ten minutes ago and we've been here the entire time, what do you think the answer is?" one of the officers asked irritatedly. One of the officers he used to walk the beat with.

"Look, Lloyd, you're not married and you don't have a girlfriend," Frankie shot back. When the others let out an 'ooh', he continued. "And your nonexistent wife or girlfriend doesn't have a psychotic stalking serial killer after them. And if you didn't talk to your nonexistent wife or girlfriend for a week and having absolutely no idea what's happened to her, you'd get a little impatient, too. She's in New York, I think. I don't know _because I haven't talked to her._"

The room went dead silent. Frost tossed Frankie his cellphone.

"Ten minutes. No phone sex," he joked. Frankie snorted and dialed her personal cell, knowing the number by memory. Her work phone was on her desk. When it went to voice mail, he dialed Jane's number.

"Jane, it's Frankie. Are you at the precinct?" he asked.

_"Yeah, why?" _

"I need you to go to Isabella's desk and go into her front desk drawer, the top one. Turn on her work cell and find either Flack's or Messer's number. It could be under either Danny or Lindsay as far as Messer goes."

_"This is so breaking protocol...but wait, you know all about that."_

"I don't have much time to joke, Jane."

_"Alright, here's Flack's number and here are the Messer's." _Frankie wrote down the numbers on a piece of paper and thanked her. He pointed at Frost.

"That did not count, her phone went to voice mail."

* * *

><p>Isabella could feel herself being gently shaken and she sat up, her eyes wide. She muffled a yawn and stretched. Don was holding out his cell, a look of annoyance on his face.<p>

"It's for you," he said flatly. She tilted her head and accepted the phone.

"Hello?"

_"Izzy," _someone breathed. Frankie. A smile broke out on her face and she could feel the excitement wake her up. _"You need to answer your phone, I went through a lot of trouble to get these numbers."_

"Having Jane break into my desk to find the numbers isn't a lot of trouble," she informed him. He cursed over the line. "You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

_"Ha ha, Blue Eyes," _he retorted dryly. She let out a giggle. _"I only have a few more minutes, but I just wanted to tell you that I miss you, love you, and I'm relieved you and Chach made it to New York in one piece."_

"Chach doesn't sleep with me anymore," she said with a laugh. Ever since they had arrived, the massive Rottweiler had slept in Don's bed, driving him nuts. "He sleeps with Don."

_"I miss the goofball," _Frankie said fondly.

"Who, Chachi or Don?" she joked. The line went silent. "Bruins? C'mon, I was just kidding."

_"Why would I miss Don?" _he asked flatly. She knew he was jealous of him, always in fear Don would try to take her from him.

"I was just kidding," she repeated. "God, you don't know how to take a joke."

_"I don't know if I like it that you're there," _he finally admitted. Her jaw dropped, the excitement quickly turning into anger.

"Oh, hell no. I even _asked_ you if you minded that I was over there and you said no. Diego's just as much after him as he is after me, I'm not going to put anyone else in danger by having me over there," she snarled.

_"Of course I'm gonna mind, Iz! It's your ex-boyfriend's apartment, where it's just you and him."_

The anger quickly turned into fury.

"So, what, you don't want me over here because he's my ex? Really? You're really going to pull that? He's also my best friend, he's also had my back more times than I can count, he wouldn't dare try anything with me, but no, that doesn't matter because _you don't like it. _How am I doing so far?" she snapped.

_"Look, I don't want to argue with you. Frost needs his phone back," _Frankie stated. Isabella snapped Don's phone shut without an 'I love you' or a goodbye.

"What the hell is his problem?" she suddenly exploded. Don stood there quietly, letting her rant. That felt good.

"He could be jealous. Whether or not you two are together, you and I have a lot of history," he pointed out.

"That's insecurity," she replied, slapping her forehead. Running her hand down her face, she shook her head. "I don't even know what just happened."

"Life. We're all stressed over this," Don sighed.


	60. Make It Stick

_**A/N: I see what I did there...sparked an argument! Soft M for making out, groping...etc.  
><strong>_

_**Rain: I know, I was a jerk for doing that, but it needed something. Trust me, I'll write a really good fluff chapter after this! The AU story has no Rizzuko in it, but I keep going back to Flacino in my head. I figured they deserved a happy ending after all of this, what can I say, I'm a hopeless romantic! Don certainly cannot help his sexiness...those blue eyes...hngh *less than three***_

* * *

><p><em>I'll fill those canyons in your soul<br>Like a river leads you home  
>And I'll walk a step behind<br>In the shadows so you shine  
>Just ask, it will be done<br>And I will prove my love  
>Until you're sure that I'm the one<br>_

Gary Allan - The One

* * *

><p>"You've been driving us nuts for the past week and a half," Jane complained. Frankie raised an eyebrow at her as his phone was tossed to him. "Give her a call and apologize."<p>

He knew he had been unfair to Isabella.

"Still no Diego?" he asked. Jane rubbed her face and shook her head.

"The guy's a ghost, but there's victims popping up. He's making a mess and the FBI is trying to get in on this. According to them, we're more concerned about Isabella's well-being instead of catching this guy," she replied bitterly.

"Well, she's victim zero. She's the vic that got away," Frankie pointed out. "She's at an undisclosed location, only I know where she is."

"It's obvious where she is, I just want to know if you're okay with it. I know Isabella, she wouldn't do anything with him, and she's convinced he wouldn't try," Jane said. "The FBI wants to know where she is, by the way."

"They won't find out unless it's absolutely necessary," he retorted. He sighed and rested his head on the back of his couch. "What use am I in Boston anyways? Diego could come after me, I've been removed from the case..."

"Get about five hundred bucks and go to New York," she told him, as if it were obvious. "Gas money, food money, hotel money..."

"I don't see why not. Hell, I've been trying to get a hold of her for the past few days. She's been ignoring my calls," Frankie replied. He liked the idea. He had taken Isabella to his old haunts, which had fascinated her. It was her turn to show him. Well, show him Queens.

"Well, then there you go," Jane said, throwing up her hands. "Go to New York, get yourself some peace of mind, give yourself something to do besides worry."

* * *

><p>The Concrete Jungle was a very apt name for New York City. The city itself was gigantic, the traffic was horrible, the people were rude, and it was almost impossible to understand anything anyone was saying. How the hell had Isabella lived in this city? How had anyone lived in this city?<p>

He finally found his way into a bodega, where a man was standing at a counter. He had shaggy, dirty blonde hair and glasses, but somehow he looked familiar.

"Hey, I'm new to the area, I was wondering if I could get directions to-" Frankie trailed off, looking down at his paper -"Greenwich Village?"

"Grinnich," the man corrected. "East or West?"

Frankie looked down at the paper. "East."

"Well, you're certainly near it," the man replied. He held out his hand for the paper and his eyes widened. "Hey, that's my buddy's building. You know Don Flack?"

Frankie nodded. "My girlfriend's staying with him," he answered. The man held out his hand to shake.

"You're Frankie Rizzoli!" he said. "Man, I thought you looked familiar. What brings you to New York? This is Yankees and Rangers country."

"Isabella," Frankie replied. Squinting at the man, he wracked his brains for his name. Don? Danny...?

Danny. That was it. Isabella had said that Danny was one of her 'brothers', one of the people she could call in a jam and he'd help her out.

"Yeah, she's out with Lindsay and Lucy right now. They're really milking her visit," Danny said fondly.

"I know Iz misses them," Frankie replied. "She was talking about how the upside to this was that she was able to see her second family."

"She's a hell of a woman," Danny agreed. "You're lucky to have her. Personally, she's not my type and I'm married, she's like a sister to me."

"Isabella has that effect on people," Frankie commented. It was what had attracted him to her from the beginning. She was snarky, sarcastic, a hard-ass, but she had accurate instincts, an observant nature, and one hell of a sense of humor. Once she had adapted to the Boston PD, she had shown her sunnier side, the kind of bright light that seemed to draw people to her. He could feel his phone buzzing in his pocket and he pulled it out. "Speak of the devil."

"Hey, Blue Eyes," he said. He heard her chuckle.

_"I just talked to Jane, I know you're in New York," _she told him. _"Where are you staying? I'll stop by and see you."_

Damn her. "Abingdon," he replied. She let out a laugh.

_"How did I know? I knew you were staying there. I know you so well," _she trilled. _"But I haven't seen you in a week and a half..."_

"Have you been counting?" he teased. He could almost hear her roll her eyes.

_"Ha ha," _she said dryly.

* * *

><p>Isabella rapped on the door of his room, moving anxiously from foot to foot as she waited on him to answer. When the door finally opened, the past ten days seemed to melt away. She threw her arms around him, kissing him hard. He seemed surprised by the intensity and stumbled backwards into the room, closing the door behind her.<p>

"How long before Flack and them notice that you're missing?" he asked as she attacked his neck with her mouth. She giggled as she sucked on his neck, straddling his lap in the chair. Frankie groaned at the contact, arching his hips against her.

"Mm, they know you're in town...I haven't seen you in a while...I think they've put two and two together," she replied, kissing his lips gently. He returned the kiss, his hands sliding up her waist. "I think we're entitled to a little alone time."

"I'm thinking you're thinking too much," he informed her hoarsely. She shivered as he breathed on her neck, goosebumps breaking out on her skin. The minute she felt his mouth on that little spot on her neck that drove her crazy, she was putty in his hands.

"Well, this beats two months," she murmured as he kissed her bare shoulder, back up to her mouth again. "Mm, this really does."

"See? I didn't let it get that far," he said against her lips. "I quit after ten days."

"Proves how much stamina I have," she chuckled, her hands skating down his chest. He cupped her ass in his hands, keeping her on his hips. She could feel his arousal grow until the friction became too much.

* * *

><p>"Mm, I missed you," Isabella murmured. Her fingers slid up and down his chest, before resting her arm over his stomach. He kissed the top of her head, his hand on the small of her back.<p>

"You know what I think?" he asked, kissing her temple. She looked up at him quizzically. "I'm thinking when this whole mess is over, later on down the road, we should get married."

Her head lifted in surprise, raking a hand through her hair.

"What, you don't want to?"

"It's not that..." she trailed off. "It's that I'm surprised you're still here. You actually want to?"

He nodded, clearly gauging her reaction.

"It's been nine months, we've been through a hell of a lot in nine months, we love each other, we've already been together through most of the marriage vows, better or worse, richer or poorer..."

Isabella took a deep breath and looked up at him. "Okay."

"Okay, you will?" he asked. She smiled, nuzzling his neck.

"Yeah. Who knows? Maybe this one'll stick," she joked.


	61. Realizations

_**A/N: Merry Christmas, everyone! I need to write more fluff...  
><strong>_

_**Rain: Yeah, I know, right? I lost count myself lol. Soon, this will be my longest-running story! It almost surpassed 'Chain Reaction' (you remember that story) which is major. Jane's a good friend to Izzy, I really like their friendship, even though I haven't really written it. That whole spoiler thing in Those Special Moments will play out soon...don't you worry!**_

* * *

><p><em>What makes you who you are?<em>

_Tell me what your story is_

_I wanna know everything about you_

_And I wanna go down every road you've been_

_Where your hopes and dreams and wishes live_

_Where you keep the rest of your life hid_

_I wanna know the girl behind that pretty stare_

_Take me there  
><em>

Rascal Flatts - Take Me There

* * *

><p>Queens was nothing like it was on TV. It had more of a family feel to it now, less of a ghetto feel. Frankie could feel Isabella's excitement radiating from her as she showed him each place she had loved growing up.<p>

The Catholic high school she had attended, the park she had played at as a child, her favorite places to hang out and eat...

Learning about Isabella like this was new to him. Frankie had heard stories about her and pictured the places in his mind from her descriptions, but they were nothing like this. Now, he was learning about her firsthand.

"This is where I grew up," she said, nodding to the giant park. 'Kids' Kingdom'.

Playgrounds, ponds, even a skate park where older kids could play. "It looks exactly the same as it did when I was a kid."

"Boston could've used a place like that," Frankie commented. Isabella smiled in return, squeezing his hand.

"I used to think I'd see my kids running around here," she revealed to him. He squeezed her hand back, but she merely shrugged.

"What, you don't think about having kids anymore?" he asked her. Frankie looked over at her and she smiled.

"Occasionally. I mean, I have two nephews and a niece. I'm not exactly in a rush to have kids, but it's a possibility someday," she responded.

Isabella was definitely the kind of woman who he could see having a lot of kids. Frankie had seen her around her nephews and Ava; they adored her and it was clear that she felt the same way about them.

"It's different when they're your own, though," he reminded her. She looked up at him, that teasing glint in her eye.

"What about you? Do you think about kids?" she asked. He chuckled and shrugged.

"Maybe a few. I mean, I grew up with siblings, so I know what it's like. Then again, it was always me and Jane against Tommy," he replied.

"I grew up with Evangeline and Levi as my older siblings. To this day, I'm still scared of clowns because they convinced me that they lived in the gutter and would drag me down into the gutters and I would never see my parents again," she said with a giggle.

"That's terrible," he chuckled. Isabella tilted her head back and laughed.

"They were terrible to me," she agreed. "I watched The Poltergeist when I was little and they both hid in my room and made noises while I tried to sleep."

"That's even worse. I hope you weren't as mean to Ian and Teagan," he commented. She hesitated before answering.

"Well, I was the worst big sister in the entire world to them. When Mitch and my mom would leave me to babysit them, I was pretty bitter about it so I locked them in their room and blasted Insane Clown Posse," she replied. He could easily see her doing something like that to her siblings.

"Plus that whole resentment where their parents were married and yours weren't," he pointed out. She snorted and tossed her head.

"Hell, I would've been good if Manny and my mom had gotten married, too," she replied. He could detect a note of bitterness in her voice.

"How much do you remember about your dad?" he asked her.

"He used to be around all the time when I was little. We used to go to Central Park and he'd get me Rocky Road ice cream. We'd sit on the bench and talk about everything. My dad taught me the starting lineup of the Yankees and Rangers, we'd talk a walk together, not caring where we went," she answered. This time, she sounded nostalgic.

"That sounds like you and your dad had a lot of fun back then," Frankie remarked. She nodded as they continued walking through the park.

"After a while, he didn't come around as much. My mom has never had to worry about him paying child support. He paid everything in full for me and Levi, getting us whatever we wanted for Christmas or our birthdays to compensate not being there. Soon, it came to a point where he just...didn't come and I would go months without seeing him. I remember asking my mom what I did wrong and if there was anything I could do to bring my dad back. But she was already married to Mitch by then and Mitch had told my dad not to come around. Something about him being a negative influence on us," Isabella replied.

Frankie snorted. "I find that hypocritical," he said. Isabella chuckled at that.

"Mitch, as it turns out, is just as mobbed up as my dad," she revealed.

He was stunned by that.

"I dragged it out of him recently. His brother got into a major spat with my dad and he sent Mitch to New York to look after my mom, Levi, and me so that a Mafia war was started and Boston and New York would have at it," she explained.

"Who was his brother?" he asked.

"Patrick Doyle."

* * *

><p>Isabella sat across from her stepfather at Tillary's Diner, her arms folded over her chest.<p>

"I want to know about the Italian-Irish Mafia war," she informed him. "The _truth_ about it."

Mitch sighed, leaning forward on his elbows to look at her. She stared back at him expectantly as he was clearly thinking over his words.

"It wasn't just about territory. It was about respect, business, and real family," he revealed. His brown gaze held her blues as he was quiet for a moment. "You and your brothers were the perfect way to get back at Armando Pacino and my brother used me to do his dirty work."

"Why did he send you to take my mother from my father?" Isabella asked. Her resolve never wavered, it felt more like she was performing an interrogation, not innocent questions.

"Because she was very important to him," he explained. "Later on down the line, I did fall in love with your mother."

The abuse was a subject they agreed not to touch until Isabella was ready to discuss it.

"You and Paddy were what prompted my dad to return to the Mafia," she realized.


	62. Love The One You're With

_**A/N: Thought it was time to write more of this. I've figured Diego needs to come back...  
><strong>_

_**Rain: Yeah, you and me both! I'm glad you trust me lol. I figured that conversation should come up sooner or later...**_

* * *

><p><em> But somewhere, the one I wanna be with's<em>

_With someone else_

_Oh God, I wanna be that someone that you're with  
><em>

__Nickelback - Someone That You're With

* * *

><p>Isabella's nausea grew as she leaned against the counter in Don's apartment.<p>

"God, why the hell do I feel so damn nauseous?" she asked. Don held out an eggroll to her, which she shoved away with the shake of her head.

"You've got to be sick if you're rejecting a Thai Pepper eggroll," he commented. She ran into the bathroom and shut the door. "You alright, shorty?"

"No, I've decided your toilet is my new best friend," she moaned, resting her head on the cold tile of his floor. "Your bathroom is disgusting."

"Yeah, sorry, my maid couldn't make it this week," Don joked as he opened the door. He held out his hand and helped her up. She stumbled forward into his arms with a groan. "C'mon, Bells, I'll get you into bed."

The floor disappeared out from under her as he scooped her into his arms like she was a sleeping child.

"Donnie?"

"Yeah?"

"I feel like crap."

He chuckled as he set her on top of the covers. Isabella snuggled into the down comforter alongside Chachi.

"You don't look that good either," he commented. She rolled her eyes and curled up into a ball.

"Thanks, I really needed that self-confidence to get me through the day."

He kissed the top of her head. "You could be pregnant."

"I can't be, I'm on birth control," she quickly shot down the idea as she closed her eyes.

"It's not one hundred percent foolproof," he reminded her. She looked up at him and patted the bed next to her. Don laid down next to her and cuddled her closer. "Would Frankie be the dad?"

She rolled her eyes again. "No, Donnie, it's you from a year ago. Surprise, surprise."

Isabella loved it when he massaged the ruts of her ribcage or caressed her spine, it had always had such a soothing presence on her.

"I'm serious."

"Yeah, he would be. If I am...p-pregnant-" she had to force out the word. "I'd be about a month along."

* * *

><p>After four tests, they were all negative. Isabella wasn't sure if she was relieved or saddened at the situation. Relieved, because it was a very inappropriate time and situation to bring a child into the equation. Saddened, because she had no idea what it was like to conceive and carry a child.<p>

"You're good?" Don called. Isabella opened the door and gave him a thumbs-up.

"I'm good," she confirmed. He patted her shoulder, giving her a one-sided hug.

"That's good. I would've kicked his ass for knocking you up otherwise," he replied. She let out a snort and shoved him playfully.

"Not like you ever could," she retorted.

"Hey, we had a hell of a time practicing, right?" he joked, poking her in the stomach. Isabella rolled her eyes, raking a hand through her dark hair.

"That will not happen again," she informed him, poking his nose teasingly. With a sigh, she quickly walked from him. Don caught her arm.

"Did I say something wrong?" he asked. She shook her head, trying to calm her racing thoughts. The memories of them 'practicing' over the years flooded her mind. He had made her fall disgustingly, head-over-heels in love with him but things had stopped when she had joined the academy.

"No," she replied. He whirled her around to face him, his electric blue eyes meeting hers. "You didn't."

"What's wrong?" he asked. Isabella couldn't stay with him anymore. That old feeling was coming back and she couldn't risk a year ago all over again. After he had stayed in New York, she had nearly cried herself to sleep. Things were looking up in her life, she was in a relationship with a man she could actually see a future with. Her job was what she loved to do above all else, her team had her back.

"I can't stay here anymore," she told him, walking into the guest room. His chasing footsteps halted as he registered her words.

"Why not?" he asked. She stuffed the rest of her clothes in her duffel and she looked at him.

"I'm getting right back where I was and I can't do that again," she replied. "That old feeling is coming back and I'm doing what I do best. I leave. We couldn't pursue a relationship because I live in Boston, but I'm coming to New York more and more and I'm starting to think about how things used to be and I'm starting to miss it. I love Frankie, Don. He's a wonderful man, he loves me, he treats me like a human being, not some sort of china doll."

"You think this is easy on me? Having you here and not being with you is killing me just as much, Iz," he argued. "I sit up every single night and wonder what might have been. Seeing you with Frankie kills me, because I'm not the reason you're happy anymore. I could have been, but I dropped the ball. That's on me. But if you feel the same way and you're running from that, that's not healthy."

"So, what do you suggest I do?" she fired back.

"Quit running! Quit lying to yourself and everyone around you! It's possible to be in love with more than one person at the same time!" he replied, throwing his hands in the air. "I was in love with two people at the same time! You and Jess!"

"You never even made a move on me and you did on Jess. What the hell was I supposed to think, Don?" Isabella demanded.

"I couldn't lose you, Iz. That sounds crazy, but you were my best friend, the one who knew me better than anyone else. If I screwed that to hell...I couldn't risk it. I loved you too much to ever mess that up," he explained.

"I was in love with you for twenty-five years, Don. Twenty-five years I spent hung up on you. We had one night in Boston and we backed off because I live there. I told you I would be in New York back and forth, but the distance was too much," she exploded at him, poking his chest hard with each word. "Now it's too late."

"It's never too late," he growled. Isabella barely had time to react before Don pulled her face up to meet his in a toe-curling, spine-chilling kiss. It felt incredible, but wrong...

All she could see in her mind was Frankie instead of how this kiss with Don was. Things had gotten carried away, but now the resentment from before evaporated into thin air.

She pulled away, his smoldering blue eyes on her.

"I can't," was all she could whisper as she pulled her duffel onto her shoulder.


	63. Family Time

**_A/N: Ooh, angsty...I figured this would be a good time to write some fluff!_**

**_Far too lazy to respond to reviews. Forgive me!  
><em>**

* * *

><p><em>And I don't know why<em>

_Why the sun decides to shine_

_But you breathed your love into me just in time_

_I never lived before your love_

_I never felt before your touch_

_I never needed anyone to make me alive_

_But then again, I wasn't really living_

_I never lived, I never lived before your love  
><em>

Kelly Clarkson - Before Your Love

* * *

><p>Isabella walked into her childhood home in time to hear barking. She tilted her head in confusion and saw her mother holding the collar of a wiggly, young Siberian husky. Isabella smiled at the dog, her gaze raking appreciatively over the pelt. It was a beautiful silver with a pair of big blue eyes.<p>

"Well now, who's this?" she crooned, dropping to her knees. She held out her hand to be sniffed and rubbed the dog's side. "Hi, pretty puppy."

"This is Lorelei, she used to belong to Mrs. Johnson around the corner," Siobhan explained. "Mrs. Johnson fell ill and she developed an allergic reaction to her as a side effect to the medication, so I told her I'd find a good home for her."

Lorelei licked Isabella's face, her tail wagging excitedly.

"It's certainly not because she's not lovable," Isabella commented. Lorelei's fur was silky under Isabella's fingertips, she had always wanted a husky growing up, but Mitch had been against huskies for their long fur. "How old is she?"

"She's two," Siobhan answered. Her blue eyes were thoughtful as she watched her daughter. "You know, Chachi always seemed so alone. I'd bet he'd like a playmate."

Isabella chuckled and patted the dog's side. "We'll see, Mom. She's a great dog and I've got the space, but I've got a lot on my plate right now. Maybe when Diego goes away."

In all honesty, it had never taken her long to fall in love with a dog. Something about Lorelei told her that this dog needed companionship and a real forever home. She finally sighed, feeling herself succumbing to the dog.

"She needs a new name. Lorelei isn't doing it for me."

Siobhan's face lit up with a large smile. "You mean you'll take her home?" she asked excitedly. Lorelei snuggled closer to Isabella, seemingly effected by this woman's change of heart.

"I'll see how Chach likes her, but if he doesn't, I can't keep her," Isabella warned. Her voice dropped to a coo as she rubbed the dog's head. "Even if you're as cute as can be and sweet as sugar."

But when Don had brought over Chachi to meet Lorelei, it was settled. Isabella had gained a dog.

"I think Joanie's a good name for you," Isabella commented. "Because I have a Chachi, now I need a Joanie." She tried to keep her eyes off of Don and focused on her new family member.

"They'd make some pretty puppies," Siobhan commented. Isabella watched her mother hug Don. "Donnie, I've missed you. You need to come around more."

"Sorry, Mama Doyle, I've been busy," Don apologized. Isabella checked her phone and saw Frankie's name on her phone.

"Hey," she answered the phone.

_"What are you up to?" _he asked. She smiled and looked down at Joanie.

"I sort of adopted a dog," she replied in a small voice.

_"Why am I not surprised?" _he asked. She let out a laugh.

"She's really cute and sweet. And she's a husky. You know how long I've wanted one of those," she explained.

_"What'd you name her?" _he asked, as if he already knew the answer.

"Joanie. My mom's neighbor couldn't keep her anymore, so my mom gave her to me. Chachi adores her, so it's all settled," she replied. He chuckled over the line.

_"So now you have Joanie and Chachi. You know, I'm gonna have to meet your mom sometime," _he commented. She sighed and stood up, brushing the dog hair off of the front of her shorts and tank top.

"I'll give you a call when it's a good time. Joanie's a really great dog, I know you're gonna like her," she replied.

_"Can't wait to meet her,"_ he told her.

* * *

><p>Isabella clasped the leash that held Joanie, the excited husky straining against it to bark and watch Frankie and Chachi play. Frankie was rolling around with Chachi, the excited Rottweiler jumping around and barking. Lindsay stood next to her and nodded down to Frankie.<p>

"It's getting serious, isn't it?" she asked. Isabella smiled as she rubbed Joanie's head.

"I think so. We've been together for nine months and I'm still with him," she responded. She massaged the ruts of the husky's ribcage, running her fingers through the silky fur. "Chachi adores him, my family loves him. He gets along with just about everybody."

"Nine months? That's a record for you," Lindsay joked. Isabella shoved her arm playfully. "He seems nice."

"He really is," she replied honestly. Her heart swelled when she saw Lucy jump onto him, squealing excitedly. It was a heartwarming sight to behold. "I'm really happy, Linds. Frankie really makes me happy."

"Danny's already prepped the big brother speech. If he hurts you..." Lindsay trailed off with a chuckle.

"He's gonna kill him," they finished at the same time. Isabella let out a giggle as she watched them. Her surrogate niece and her dog interacting with her boyfriend.

"This is the family test, isn't it?" Lindsay commented. Isabella's smile turned wry as she continued to watch them.

"Yeah, I guess it is. If it is a test, he's passing," she replied.

* * *

><p>Frankie watched Isabella toss back the covers on his bed and crawl in, snuggling under. He slid next to her and rested his hand on her waist, rubbing her side.<p>

"Did you have fun today?" she asked.

"Yeah, I really did. Lucy's a cute kid," he replied, kissing her bare shoulder. "I liked Lindsay, too."

"She's an awesome person," Isabella agreed, nestling into his side. Frankie asked no questions about why she suddenly up and left Flack's place for his. Her mouth brushed over his gently. "I love you."

"Love you more, Blue Eyes."


	64. Survival

_**A/N: Time to spice things up again...**_

_**Rain: You can't have Chachi without a Joanie, it just doesn't work! Lol I hope you don't hate me for what I'm about to do here...**_

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><p><em>"This is my last time," she said as she faded away<em>

_"It's hard to imagine but one day you'll end up like me"_

_Then she said "If you want to get out alive_

_Ooh, run for your life"  
><em>

Three Days Grace - Get Out Alive

* * *

><p>Isabella bolted up the stairs of Don's apartment building, desperate to find refuge from everything. Frankie was gone. The hotel room was a mess, signs of a clear struggle. He had been taken and she knew she was next. As her footsteps echoed through the stairwell as she stomped up the steep incline, her heart and breath were racing, slightly hyperventilating. Her flight instincts were raging as she approached the sixth floor flight. Why did Don have to live on the tenth floor? Why couldn't he live on the first floor? The sound of the door opening behind her caught her attention and she let out a shriek.<p>

She spun around, ready to defend herself. A tall, slender Hispanic man crept through the door and Isabella let out a sigh of relief. She mumbled out an apology before sprinting up the steps again. When her feet hit the landing, she lunged for another flight of stairs. Seventh floor. Three more to go until she was where she wanted to be.

But when she looked over her shoulder, the Hispanic man was following her. And he was not alone. Isabella ran harder than she had ever had before, her lungs burning with the sensation. But when she reached the tenth, she was cornered in the stairwell. Her refuge was just behind the door, so tantalizingly out of reach. The men who had stepped from the doorway were Diego and Mario Vasquez.

"Get her."

The command caused the men to react like a pack of wolves as she tried to fight off the four men as best as she could. Strength in numbers versus a tiny CSI...the odds were not in her favor. Isabella swore as she swung at them. Her wrists were bound as she was lifted up effortlessly.

_"Somebody, please, help me!" _she screamed, writhing like mad. She had spilled the blood of one of the men, a hard sock to the jaw for another. Isabella wrenched one of her wrists free and threw another punch, hitting Mario square in the nose. It was the fight of her life as she twisted like an alligator against their vice-like grip. Four men couldn't restrain her. As soon as one of her legs were free, she kicked one of the men in the face. Blood dripped to the floor. "Help! Officer in trouble! Officer in trouble!"

A rag was placed over her mouth as the fight left her body. Running hard and fighting even harder had drained every ounce of fight from her.

* * *

><p>Isabella vaguely remembered Diego grabbing her from the stairwell of Don's building and she remembered she fought like hell to get away. She tugged at the ties, which now felt vaguely familiar to her. Isabella was bound to a post, her left eye swollen shut from the beatings she had suffered. Diego had gotten smart; members of his old gang had come to help him capture her. Her ribs ached and throbbed, blood flowed freely from wounds on her head and body. It was a blur after the kidnapping, but now she was coming to. As Isabella took in the room with her right eye, the light pierced her pupil, she flinched back and squeezed it shut from the pain.<p>

Why her? What was so special about her that would bring this on her? This wasn't love; this was obsession. He no longer wanted her. It felt like Diego Vasquez was her personal Charles Hoyt as she felt her resolve crashing down.

"She's awake," someone commented. Mario. Rage welled up inside of her as Isabella staggered to her feet, the ties pulling up on the post as well.

"No thanks to you," she snarled. Mario looked genuinely sorry as he looked her over. "You were supposed to look after me and you didn't."

"He was going to kill my family," he informed her quietly. The look of a father's fierce love shone in his eyes as he met her gaze steadily. "I couldn't let that happen, you can't blame me for that."

Isabella couldn't blame him, as hard as she tried. "I don't blame you," she whispered. She pressed her forehead against the cold, hard post and the tears threatened to choke her. "Where's Frankie?"

"I convinced Diego to take him back to Boston without killing him. Worst case scenario, he needs a few stitches, possibly a mild concussion," he replied. Isabella nearly collapsed in relief, the sobs wracking her body. Frankie was alive, safe and sound in Boston.

"Thank you, Mario," she told him once she could muster the words. "I can't thank you enough."

"All I had to do was help him take you," he revealed as he walked over to her. As he flicked out the knife and began to cut at the ties, the sound of a gun discharging cracked through the air. Mario's face contorted with pain as he fell to the ground. Diego stood with a gun in his hand, pointing it right at her.

"No rest for the wicked, brother," he told him as he stepped over his brother's body. Isabella trembled as the icy fear threatened to envelop her again.

"Please, just let me go," she begged. The cop instincts were shattered, leaving only the victim behind. "Where am I?"

Diego yanked the blinds open and Isabella could see the city. As her eye became used to the sunlight, she saw it was Boston and not New York.

"You see, you've resisted me for so long that I've grown tired of chasing after you, Isabella," he told her conversationally as he twirled the 9mm in his fingers. Isabella refused to let him get behind her as she forced herself to move with him. Her ribs shrieked with each movement, stealing her breath from her lungs. "However, because I can't let you live..."

Isabella was grateful Mario had slit one of the ties and had torn the fabric of the other one. She tugged on it as the gun was pointed at her. The tie snapped and she lunged for her tormentor. The two fought viciously for the gun until it went off. She felt a searing pain in her gut as her body went limp under him. Was this the end?

Had Diego Vasquez finally won?

But even with a gunshot wound to the abdomen, she had every reason in the world to fight. Survival.

Weakly, she fought back, still trying to get the gun from him. The door was kicked open and she felt the gun press against her throat. Wildly, her eyes rested on Jane. What the hell was Jane doing there? Again, the gun discharged into her stomach.

"Shoot him, Jane!" Isabella commanded weakly, her voice cut off by the mind-searing pain. The sound of a gunshot was the last thing she heard as everything went black. Reality slipped away...


	65. Parting Is Such Sweet Sorrow

_**A/N: OH SNAP! This is an AU chapter...just so we're clear...within about five or six chapters, this story will end. I just want to thank vintagelover12 and RaiN-n-Rizzlesgal for their amazing reviews. Special shout-out to RaiN for putting up with my constant bitching about this story and helping me through writer's block. She has been with me since the beginning of this story and has been this story's biggest supporter!**_

_**Rain: I actually turned that idea in my head. But I'm glad you enjoyed it!  
><strong>_

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><p><em>Oh, baby why'd you leave me?<br>Why'd you have to go?  
>I was counting on forever<br>Now, I'll never know  
>Oh, I'll never know<br>It's like I'm looking from a distance  
>Standing in the background<em>

_This can't be happening to me  
>This is just a dream<br>_

Carrie Underwood - Just A Dream

* * *

><p>Isabella had been rushed into surgery after Diego had shot her in the stomach twice. Frankie and everyone who knew Isabella were sitting in the waiting room with their hearts in their throats.<p>

"I shot him," Jane said, speaking for the first time in two hours. Her expression was grim, her dark eyes haunted. "He had a gun and I pulled the trigger."

"You did your job," Korsak told her gently. Frankie was wrapped up in his thoughts, his worry choking every positive thought he could have. Two close-contact gunshot wounds to the abdomen didn't seem like a five-foot-two and one hundred and eleven pound woman could survive. No matter how strong her spirit was or how stubborn she was, she was still only as strong as a woman who stood at five-foot-two and weighed at one hundred and eleven pounds.

"If he killed her..." he trailed off, the words becoming too much. He had never felt this way about anyone else. His mind flashed to every single big moment in their relationship, his fists clenching tighter and tighter. Frankie wasn't a crier, but tears flooded his vision at the thought of waking up in the morning without the woman with whom he had fallen in love.

"Hey, she'll be fine," Jane told him, rubbing his back. Isabella's family was on its way from New York, news would go directly to Evangeline and Teagan. "They're gonna take care of her, just calm down."

"God, I hope she'll be alright."

* * *

><p><strong>[AN: This is being told from Isabella's point of view]**

Pain. That was the only thing she could feel physically. Worry and fear were the only thing she could feel emotionally. But Isabella was exhausted from fighting so hard. It was something she had done her entire life and death was something she had dodged ever since she was a child.

"Dante?" she murmured sleepily. She could just make out his form, along with two others. As they drew closer, Isabella saw Aiden and Jess. "Aiden...Jess..."

"You've fought too hard for too long," he told her gently, taking her by the hands. With a quick kiss to her forehead, he looked behind her. "It's time..."

"But my family...Frankie...my friends," she said, looking over her shoulder.

"They don't want you to hurt anymore," Jess murmured. She rested her hand on Isabella's shoulder. "You've more than earned this."

Isabella was enveloped with warmth, peace, and comfort as she followed her three best friends.

She could faintly hear the yells of the doctors and surgeons, as well as the sound of a heart monitor turning to a flat-line. Isabella was giving in.

She was going home.

* * *

><p>Frankie watched as Evangeline walked in. Her large brown eyes were red-rimmed and her face was tear-stained. Ava and James walked alongside her, clinging to their mother. His heart leaped into his throat, eagerly waiting on her words. When their gazes locked, she shook her head. Her shoulders shook as she sobbed, collapsing onto the floor.<p>

"That's relief, right?" he pleaded. "Please tell me it's good news."

Evangeline just shook her head, her children trying to soothe her. That could only mean one thing...

Isabella was dead. The news hit him hard as he threw the table containing the magazines across the waiting room.

"That's a really sick joke, Evangeline," he told her harshly. Ava's brown eyes were wide as she pressed against her mother.

"She died in surgery," Evangeline replied tearfully. As more tears rolled down her face, she swallowed and continued. "They tried everything they could, but the bullets had hit in exactly the wrong spots."

Frankie leaned his hands against the wall in utter shock. It couldn't be true...but he could tell by the look on Evangeline's, Ava's, and James' that it was.

She was really dead.

He stood in the morgue as his gaze rested on her peaceful form. Her eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted. Frankie slid her cold hand into his and lifted it to his lips.

"I love you," he whispered tearfully as he pressed it to his face. Trying to remember her warmth, her beautiful smile, her contagious laugh, her scent...

Those beautiful blue eyes he had loved to look into so much. The chrome slab seemed to make it real, the harsh lighting making her skin appear translucent. He would never feel her warmth, hear her voice or her laughter...he would never see her smile for him, or feel her cuddle against him when she was cold.

"You are the best thing that ever happened to me."

It was a great injustice, having Isabella die. So many lost so much. She was a damn good cop that didn't try to become a legend. Isabella did the job to the best of her ability and made sure it was done right. Her parents had lost their daughter...her siblings had lost a sister. Poor Flack...

They had known each other almost their entire lives, and Fate had torn them apart. The world had lost so much in just one day, but Frankie looked at it as she was finally free. Isabella couldn't hurt, she couldn't get sick, nothing could hurt or touch her. Diego was dead and in the ground. He couldn't torment her anymore...

"I'm so sorry for your loss," Maura's voice came out of nowhere. He looked up and wiped his eyes, nodding his head.

"Me, too," he replied. Her eyes were full of sorrow as she traced Isabella's still arm.

"She loved you," she stated. Frankie chuckled at the statement as he looked down at his lover.

"We were talking about getting married," he confided in a whisper. Fresh tears welled in his eyes as he looked at her. The sheet was drawn up over her body, perfectly motionless. His gaze lifted as he wiped his eyes again. "I can't stand the thought of someone doing an autopsy on her, Maura. She...she deserves better than that."

"The ME she used to work with in New York wants to perform the autopsy. He wants to say his last goodbye to her, they were close," she informed him. Her hands rested on his. "I'm with them every step of the way."

* * *

><p>"So many people's lives are changed because of one act. Everyone lost a piece of themselves the day Detective Isabella Reagan Pacino Zuko died, so many people lost so much. A mother lost her child. Sisters were forever separated, two boys and a little girl now lack the aunt they've known since birth. Isabella was the kind of person that could instantly brighten your day with just a smile or a little joke. Her favorite quote was a Chinese proverb that said "Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery. Today is a gift and that is why it is called 'present.' If anyone was a gift to this world, it was Isabella. Never an ill word passed her lips that she wouldn't say to someone's face. She was like a daughter to me, every bit of effort she had was put into the lab. The NYPD and the Boston PD have suffered an irreplaceable loss that we will all mourn for eternity," Mac Taylor said from the stage at the bar.<p>

Slowly, everyone raised their glasses in a toast. Frankie had met Stella, another person Isabella had been close to.

"Izzy was one of those rare people that you couldn't help but like. She was quirky, eccentric, honest, and the type of person you couldn't help but like. We'll miss her uniqueness and there will never be another person like her," Stella said after a bit.

"I dated Isabella for nine months and she has taught me more than anyone else ever could. She taught me you are as old as you feel and it was okay to be yourself. She was a beautiful person, inside and out. She loved with her entire heart and loved to love," Frankie spoke.

"To Izzy."


	66. She's Okay

**_A/N: She's really okay, I promise you! This is officially my longest running story EVER! WOOHOO! But let me warn you all..._**

**_This is the fourth to the last chapter of Won't Back Down._**

**_Rain: I cried a little bit too while writing it. I was honestly going to end it and then write a spin-off to where she survives, but I thought that was stupid.  
><em>**

* * *

><p><em>Oh, how we'd talk for hours upon end<br>__What I would give just to do it again  
><em>_You're lying there in this hospital bed  
><em>_Won't you open your eyes  
><em>_And let's talk once again?_

_If you fly away tonight  
>Wanna tell you that I love you<br>I hope that you can hear me  
>I hope that you can feel me <em>

Disciple — Things Left Unsaid

* * *

><p>"She's suffered major internal damage because of the bullets, her brain is in major shutdown from the stress. Luckily, she survived the surgery, but she's not completely out of the woods yet. The next twenty-four hours will tell them everything," Evangeline announced. Frankie breathed a deep sigh of relief as he leaned his head against the wall.<p>

Isabella was alive. She was coming back to him...

"They have her under heavy sedation on a ventilator because her breathing is very weak right now. We can see her soon, but not for very long. It's not going to be easy to see her because of all of the machines," she added. She nodded down to her children asleep in the chairs, huddled together. "Ava and James aren't seeing her until she wakes up."

"But it's looking good, right?" Frankie asked. Evangeline nodded and sat down. She ran her hands over her haggard face, smoothing her hair back.

"It's good that she survived the surgery. As much as I know of her, that woman is too stubborn to let anything win," Jane spoke up. She nudged Frankie. "See? I told you she'd be okay."

He sank back in his chair, reveling in the relief.

"Is she okay?" Teagan's worried voice came over the noise of relief. She carried tiny Liam in her arms as she walked over.

"Touch and go for the next twenty-four hours. Anything can happen," Evangeline informed her as she took the baby into her arms.

"When can we see her?" Frankie spoke up.

"Right now."

* * *

><p>Isabella's room was still and quiet, with the exception of the hum of the machines. Frankie could see why Evangeline would want to protect her children from this. He didn't want to remember Isabella like this, God forbid should something happen to her. Without her makeup, she looked almost childlike as she slept. A deep purple bruise covered one of her eyes, her raven hair fanned out on the pillow and bed as her chest moved artificially.<p>

"Hey," he murmured as he sat down next to her. It looked as if her eyes were moving behind her eyelids, but he was convinced it was his imagination. He took one of her hands in his as he gently caressed the bruises. "It's me, Blue Eyes. It's Bruins."

It was the first time he called himself by the nickname she had given him.

"I don't know if you can hear me, I don't know if you can feel me here right now, but I want you to know that I love you. Please get better, babe, there are so many people who are rooting for you. You're way tougher than Diego, he can't break you. You've got nine lives, I'm sure of it."

It was everyone's running joke with her about her seemingly endless brushes with death. Isabella always seemed to flip Death the bird and flaunt her life. Now it just seemed cruel. Diego Vasquez had broken her physically, but he could tell with each beep of the monitor and hum of the ventilator that he hadn't broken her spiritually, emotionally, or mentally. She was finally free from the monster who had lurked in her dreams. She didn't need to look over her shoulder anymore, or fear that she was being watched.

"You're stronger than this, Blue Eyes," Frankie told her. Her entire life was testimony to that. "I know you're tired of fighting and I don't blame you. This life, it sucks, you know? You wake up, you'll be fighting more, but you are the fight. You are everything good about the fight."

He kissed the bruises on her hand tenderly, caressing her knuckles with his thumb. Frankie longed for her to wake up and tell him everything was okay, that she was okay, but she wasn't moving. As long as she was like this, he wasn't okay. It tore him up inside to see his lover like this, this vulnerable and soft. For so long, he had taken Isabella for granted, but he wasn't going to anymore. If and when she awoke, he would tell her exactly how he felt about her.

Yesterday was when the surgery had taken place and today was when the doctors had noticed her heartbeat was much stronger. Isabella would wake when she was ready, she could wake up on a ventilator and be okay.

"Squeeze my hand, okay?" he told her. But it was like she decided to one-up his request.

Her eyelids fluttered and her clear blue irises were exposed.


	67. Our Love Stays The Same

**_A/N: Third to the last chapter of Won't Back Down. I wish I could drag it out more, but my muse is like: "No way." This has definitely been a learning experience and I am very proud of this story. It saddens me to end it, but there's really nothing else I can do. There will be another story that I hope you will enjoy. I'm honestly on the fence of whether or not I want to make a new OC. I just used Isabella for this story because I couldn't think of another name for it. Thus what I call 'Rizzuko' was born._**

**_Vintage: Aw, you're so sweet! I've tried so hard to make sure their love is believable, I'm so happy I was able to weave its magic on you! I hope my tips in PM helped you. I honestly wish I could continue it a little bit more, but inspiration is running low. This is one story I refuse to put on hiatus! Thank you for such a beautiful review!_**

**_Rain: That's good lol. I love writing this story, I have just had a spike in it recently...but I've got two more chapters after this!_**

**_Two months after Isabella is released from the hospital. Some very long deserved fluff...the next three chapters are fluff-filled...PPF stands for Past, Present, Future. A PPF diamond means there are three diamonds. The one to the left means the past, the larger diamond indicates the present, and the other is the future. _**

* * *

><p><em>I was on the brink of a heart attack<em>

_You gave me life and kept me coming back_

_I seen the sun rise in your eyes, your eyes_

_We've got a future full of blue skies, blue skies_

_Even the seasons change_

_Our love still stays the same_

_Katy Perry — Hummingbird Heartbeat_

* * *

><p>"Great, I'm becoming one of those sweatpants girls," Isabella complained as she struggled to stand up from the couch. She had seen the bullet holes for herself, the doctors had assured her they would barely scar, which didn't matter to her. "Watch. I'm gonna get fat and I won't be able to look good in anything again."<p>

"There's no earthly way you could ever get fat. I've seen you put away two large orders of chili cheese curly fries, a one-pound cheeseburger, and a milkshake. I don't even know where it goes," Jane disagreed. After surveying her critically, she shook her head. "I really hate you."

"It goes to my ass, Jane," Isabella told her as she walked into the kitchen. She had gotten used to the slight pull on her stomach from the stitches every time she walked. "But I've been thinking about getting a tattoo. You know, I've lived through more things than most, I think I should get more than scars left over as a souvenir."

"Hey, Ma's already grinding her teeth over the fact you're a cop with a tongue ring. She'll flip when she finds out Frankie's girlfriend now has a tattoo," Jane replied. Isabella raised her eyebrow.

"Oh, I'm so good with the shock factor, but it's going to be on my lower back, completely covered by my shirts. It's not going to be anything massive, but it's going to be wide. I've decided to put a blue lotus flower on my back with the word 'maireachtáil' right above it," she explained.

"What does that mean?" Jane asked. Isabella smiled and leaned against the arm of her couch.

"It's Irish for 'survivor', I figured it fit me perfectly," she answered.

* * *

><p>"Let me see," Frankie told her. Isabella wrinkled her nose against the stench of the salve as he peeled back the bandage. She forced herself to look away at the angry red marks etched onto her snowy white flesh. His touch was gentle on her stomach as he carefully rubbed in the salve. "You're too rough when you apply it, I apparently need to."<p>

"It really reeks," she muttered. When a fresh bandage was carefully applied, he stood up, cleaning his fingers on the cloth next to him.

"Yeah, it really does, but it's supposed to keep it clean," he replied. Isabella smoothed her T-shirt back down over the bandage, her gaze down. "Hey. Don't be like that, I'm just glad you're okay," he told her.

With a gentle kiss to her lips, he continued. "A little banged-up, but you're okay. You can't do this alone anymore."

Her gaze met his and she sighed. "I guess I'm just tired of trying," she mumbled against his mouth.

"As long as I'm here, you'll never be alone, Blue Eyes," he told her. She nuzzled his neck, burrowing closer to him. Frankie gently embraced her, minding the wounds.

"I love you," she said, her eyes meeting his. Before him, she wasn't even sure how she'd managed to keep herself stitched together. The connection between them was deeper than an ocean and stronger than steel, something that astounded her.

"I love you, too," he replied. She stretched onto her toes to kiss him, her arms winding around his neck.

"Oh, yuck, get a room, you two," Teagan scoffed as she moved by. "Quit makin' out like a couple of hormonal teenagers."

Isabella flipped her sister the bird as she stood flatfoot. "I let you and your crib midget live in my living room and this is how you repay me, little sister?" she prompted with an arch of her eyebrow.

Teagan grinned sheepishly. "Did I mention I love you?"

Frankie kissed the side of Isabella's head. "Ease up on her, Iz."

Her hands disappeared into his jacket pockets and her fingers brushed over something. Isabella frowned, her gaze snapping up to his.

"What is in your pocket?" she asked as her fingers closed around the object. It was small and square, soft under her fingertips. Velvet...?

When she pulled it out, her eyes widened until she was sure they were going to fall out of her skull. In her palm, lay a small box. Frankie flipped it open and Isabella's eyes rested on a slender engagement ring. It was antique-looking with intricate PPF setting with tiny aquamarine diamonds beside the two farthest diamonds. To say it was a beautiful piece was putting it mildly.

"That was my grandmother's ring," he told her. Her gaze snapped up to his fearfully.

"Are you sure?" she asked. He nodded, taking the ring from the box.

"So...will you?" he asked. Isabella let out a laugh as she nodded.

"Yes!" she replied. Frankie slipped the ring onto her finger and she kissed him hard.


	68. Sucker For Blue Eyes

**_A/N: This is it, guys. The second to the last chapter of "Won't Back Down." Song-fiction chapter to the song "I Cross My Heart" Look up the lyrics if you can't listen to the song. It's perfect._**

**_Rain: Yes, I know...I was reading over everything and I just realized how far Izzy and Frankie have come. They deserve this so much!  
><em>**

* * *

><p><em>Our love is unconditional<em>

_We knew it from the start_

_I see it in your eyes_

_You can feel it from my heart_

_From here on after_

_Let's stay the way we are right now_

_And share all the love and laughter_

_That a lifetime will allow_

George Strait — I Cross My Heart

* * *

><p>Isabella stood on the steps of the church, checking her watch. She was supposed to be getting married in fifteen minutes and her father was nowhere to be seen. Tommy strolled up, his hair mussy.<p>

"Dammit, Tommy, you're late to your brother's wedding and you look like a hobo!" she said, her hands covering her face. It had taken her a total of two hours to get dressed for the impromptu wedding with trembling hands. Her dark hair was pulled up with locks of hair cascading down her face. Her dress was a simple white cocktail dress she had bought for a dinner party a few months back but had never attended. It was made of silk with thin straps and the curves of her torso until it gently flared out at the hips, ending her knees. Perfect for a May wedding. She carried her white stilettos in her purse as she waited.

"You look good, too," he retorted. Isabella fingered the ivy tendrils holding her bouquet together. She had bought the flowers at last minute, asking for something 'wedding-y'. Now she had an assortment of roses, hibiscuses, gardenias, daffodils, orchids, and irises. Somehow, they looked complete with their vibrant colors and intoxicating scents.

"I'm really nervous," she admitted finally. "This is my second marriage and I'm scared to death of screwing this up."

"Hey, he's just as nervous as you," he told her. He held out his arm and she accepted it. "Welcome to the family, sis."

* * *

><p>It astonished Isabella of just how far she had come for this. Nearly three years ago, she had come to Boston and now, she was getting married to the man who had stumbled across the walls and found her heart lying in bitter ruins. It felt like it was a dream as the pastor continued to preach about life and death, Isabella could barely keep her focus on his words instead of the man before her. His shirt was slightly wrinkled, his hair a boyish mess, but his dark brown eyes were on hers, a look of clear sincerity. How the hell had she become so lucky in her life? What had she done to deserve this, to deserve him?<p>

_I cross my heart  
>And promise to<br>Give all I've got to give  
>To make all your dreams come true<br>In all the world, you'll never find  
>A love as true as mine <em>

"Frank Rizzoli Jr, do you take Isabella Reagan Pacino to be your lawfully wedded wife?" the pastor's voice cut through her thoughts.

"I do."

"Isabella Reagan Pacino, do you take Frank Rizzoli Jr to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do."

"Then, by the power vested in me by the state of Massachusetts, I now pronounce you man and wife."

After a brief kiss, the small crowd in the room applauded.

* * *

><p>The 'reception' was in Evangeline's backyard with the people closest to the two of them. Mac, Stella, Danny, Lindsay, Lucy, Sid, Hawkes, Adam, Don, Papa Don, and Sam...<p>

To Isabella's intense surprise, Mac had shown up to the reception wearing a suit. Jo had opted to stay behind to take care of the lab.

"It's time for these two to have their first dance," Evangeline said. She pointed to the small patch of grass where Levi stood with a few members of his band. "Levi is singing the song for their first dance, a song he deems as a testimony to their love."

Isabella rolled her eyes at the corniness of her sister's words as she stepped into her new husband's arms.

_You'll always be the miracle  
><em>_That makes my life complete  
>And as long as there's a breath in me<br>I'll make yours just as sweet  
>As we look into the future<br>It's as far as we can see  
>So let's make each tomorrow<br>Be the best that it can be_

"They were right," she informed Frankie as they swayed slowly to the love ballad. He arched his eyebrow for elaboration. "This song is good for us."

He chuckled as his lips brushed her hairline. Isabella felt so tiny compared to him, her heels carelessly tossed onto the patio. She stood on her tip-toes to reach him as they continued to dance. It wasn't dancing so much as swaying in a little circle.

"I love you."

* * *

><p><em>And if along the way<br>We find a day it starts to storm  
>You've got the promise of my love<br>To keep you warm_

"This here is a surprise for you," Siobhan announced as she stood with Angela by the table where the box shrouded the cake. Frankie glanced over at his wife, her blue eyes brimming with curiosity. He never could get over the resemblance of Siobhan and Isabella. Siobhan was smaller than her daughter with deep red hair instead of black, and the eyes were the same as well as the smile. It was his wife at fifty-something. "Bryan says congratulations on your big day, as well as the rest of the staff at Black Hound."

When the cake was revealed, Isabella let out a squeal. It was a small black and white four-tier cake with floral designs running down the front and intricate beading surrounding each little tier.

"It's beautiful!" she gasped as she walked forward. Frankie grabbed the little cake knife.

"Hey, we gotta cut it up, remember?" he muttered in her ear. She let out a giggle as she leaned back against his chest.

"I swear on everything I hold sacred that if you ruin this dress, I will end you," she told him. He kissed the top of her head and helped her cut into the cake. After moving a little sliver from the massive cake, Isabella ran her finger over the icing and rubbed it in his face. She let out a shriek as Frankie shoved it in her face. "Remind me why I married you, geez!"

"Because you couldn't handle being without me," he responded, kissing her forehead. She wrinkled her nose as she pulled a napkin from the table and wiped it from her face. The chocolate cake was surprising rich and smooth, rather than sweet.

"This cake is awesome. Damn, I love Black Hound," she commented as she took a bite of the cake. She nodded over to where Jane and Levi stood, deep in conversation. "How much you wanna bet that those two are together?"

"It's our money now, hon," he reminded her. Isabella rolled her eyes and nudged him.

"Answer the question."

"Gimme thirty that they're not."

"You just lost thirty bucks," she crowed as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. A triumphant smile was glued to her face. Clearly, his wife knew something she wasn't going to let on. "They got together after I got shot."

"Your brother doesn't seem her type," Frankie commented. The triumphant smile broadened as she did a little happy dance.

"Oh, he's not, but he's actually a musician that's going places. He played something for her on the guitar and Jane fell madly in love with him. Now she can join the all-exclusive 'I Fell In Love With A Pacino' club," she informed him.

"They're not in love," he said. It was difficult to picture rough and tough Jane with a soulful, intense Levi. Isabella trailed her tongue ring over her teeth as she nodded.

"Not yet," she sing-songed as she reached up and kissed his cheek. Frankie wrapped his arms around her waist, tugging her close to him.

"Remind me why I married you," he muttered in her ear. Isabella pressed a kiss to his mouth with a giggle.

"Because you're a sucker for Blue Eyes."

_In all the world, you'll never find a love as true as mine_


	69. Here's To Us

_**A/N: It seems as though I am not done with this story...hmm... Song in this chapter should definitely be listened to. "Here's To Us" by the Glee Cast. Now, I love Glee, I really do. It's definitely worth a listen. First part of this chapter is Isabella's point of view told in first person.**_

_**Also, I'm writing a new Isabella/Frankie story coming soon called 'Indelible'. **_

_**Rain: Glad you like the wedding scene lol it was fun to write. **_

_**Meiveva: You're so sweet! **_

_**Eh: Aw, you made me smile so wide! I love writing these characters, even though they frustrate me so badly sometimes. **_

_**Wrestle: I thought about it, not gonna lie lol. I've rewritten this chapter about four times until I decided to end it here. Glad you enjoyed this!**_

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><p><em>Here's to all that we've kissed and to all that we've missed<em>

_To the biggest mistakes that we just wouldn't trade_

_To us breaking up without us breaking down_

_To whatever's coming our way, here's to us, here's to us_

_Here's to us, here's to love, all the times that we messed up_

_Here's to you, fill the glass 'cause the last few days have gone too fast_

_So let's give 'em hell, wish everybody well_

Glee Cast — Here's To Us

* * *

><p>No one told me that life was gonna be like this. I've tracked down serial killers, murderers, child molesters, and every single scumbag in every imaginable category possible. Life's thrown me some pretty fucked-up shit and I've gotten through it with my head down. I've been abused and I've lost people I love. I'm also blessed. I have a husband whom I love more than I ever thought possible and loves me unconditionally in return. I have a few good friends that I can count on for anything and I have found a second family in my in-laws. And just when things were settling down, I had a baby. I thought I loved my niece and nephews until I saw my precious Aiden Jessica after a hard delivery. My body was too delicate after the shooting to carry a baby to term and went in to premature labor. They'd nearly lost us, but little Aiden was a fighter, just like her namesakes. Aiden Burn and Jessica Angell would be proud.<p>

I hold my baby girl on my chest, marveling at her perfection. Dark brown hair like Frankie, my thick curls and my pale skin. Her soft brown eyes are closed, her tiny hand holding my index finger. Everyone told me life is unfair, but no one prepared me for how amazing it could be. I'll be the first to admit that I'm a tough bitch; no one can push me around, but this tiny, precious, and perfect little angel melted my heart and captured it in her tiny hands. I lift her hand to my lips to press a soft kiss to it, her silky soft skin almost translucent to my eyes. Twelve hours left me sore and five days in an incubator made me worried about AJ. A soft click alerted me and my head lifted, nodding silently to Frankie. His dark hair is unkempt, his clothes disheveled. He's wearing a pair of wrinkled khakis and a red and black checked flannel shirt.

"How is she?" he whispers. I look back down at her sleeping form and smile a bit. Her soft snoring fills the air and my hand reaches to touch her delicate back.

"Sleeping sound and snoring like a freight train," I answer. This baby changed everything about all of us. I went from tough-bitch detective to doting mother. "She's so...perfect."

"We did good," he agrees. I feel his lips on my cheek and I look up at him. There was still a chance we could lose AJ and I didn't want to think about it. After all we'd been through, I couldn't let my baby die. "She'll be okay, Blue Eyes."

My old nickname doesn't offer me any comfort like it used to. I sigh and squeeze my eyes shut.

"Growing up, I always swore that I would be a better mother to my kids than my mother was to me. Then there was a time I couldn't see myself as a mother. Now I am one and our baby's dying," I whisper. My throat constricts until I feel like I can't breathe. "It's like Novalee said on 'Where the Heart Is' when she held her baby for the first time. How can you love someone so much that you just met?" I sniffle a little when AJ sighs in my arms.

"I know, I'm worried, too. You think I wanna pass her off when I hold her or set her down? If I had it my way, she would never touch the ground," Frankie soothes me. "You love her not just because she's yours, but it's who you are, Isabella. You love with your whole heart when you give it a chance and it's one of my favorite things about you." I hate crying. My upper lip swells up, my throat burns, and I look like I'm stoned afterward, but I can't help it.

"Even if she lives, what kind of world is she living in? People out there are going to want to hurt her and we can't hide her away forever," I fret. His hand smooths my dark hair and his thumb touches the damp streaks on my cheek, wiping it away.

"Our job is to mold her into the person she's going to be and teach her right from wrong. You're right about not being able to hide her away forever, but just think how independent she's going to be. We're a couple of extremely self-sufficient people," he says. I roll my eyes a little.

"I am, you're not. I went away for three days to see my mother in New York and I come back to see Angela in the house, taking care of you," I remind him gently. I glance down to the baby to feel her breath on my skin and shift a little uncomfortably. My breast milk had already come in and I had to pump every few hours. "I love you, Bruins." My old nickname for him made me smile a little. He gives me that rakish grin that always makes my heart pound just that little bit more.

"Love you more, Blue Eyes," he replies. Even if the sky falls now, I have my baby and my husband. That's just fine with me.

* * *

><p>Isabella Rizzoli paced the living room, cordless phone in hand, wearing a fluffy lime-green bathrobe. Her dark hair was in curlers as she bounced a fussy six month old baby on her hip. Evangeline chattered on the other line about her newest case. She had just gotten engaged to a top agent, one that was willing to let her stay at home with James and Ava.<p>

"Yeah, Evan, I'm here. AJ's just a little colicky now. Yes, I'll be there for your engagement party. Me and Frankie both," she said, kissing her daughter's temple. She sighed heavily. "I'm almost ready, I just have to take my hair down and put on my dress and get on my makeup."

_"What about your baby daddy? What is he doing?" _Evangeline asked. Isabella rolled her eyes, trying to soothe AJ's nerves. The brown-eyed brunette baby girl had an blood-freezing shriek that could wake the dead when she went at it.

"He's in the shower now," Isabella replied, pulling the phone away from her ear when she saw her husband tucking his gray dress shirt in his black dress pants. Joanie the husky bounced up and down, barking excitedly at the sight of Frankie. It was the running joke between them. Joanie was Frankie's dog, Chachi was Isabella's. "Babe, can you take AJ? I have to get ready."

He slipped the baby into his arms and AJ glared at her mother balefully before burying her face in to her father's neck, continuing her ruckus.

"Faker," Isabella snorted. Frankie touched the baby's back, rubbing his hand in soothing circles. "Her pacifier's in her bouncy seat. I have to get ready."

"It'd probably help if you got off the phone with the sister you'll be seeing in two hours," he commented. She groaned.

"Shit, call you back, Evan," she told her sister and hung up. She kissed her husband's cheek. "Thank you, baby."

"Yeah, yeah, go ahead and get ready for the damn party," he replied, waving her off. Isabella grinned at him before slipping toward the bathroom. She pulled her dress off the hanger and yanked it over her head, fixing the double strap across her shoulder. It was a little black dress in every sense of the word, fitting snugly to her post-baby body, ending at mid-thigh. She lifted her arm and zipped the dress, smoothing the material down her front. It took fifteen minutes to finish her hair. Her raven hair fell down her back, ending at her waist in curls. Hormones had made her locks grow longer than before and she loved it.

Isabella glanced at her watch attached to her wrist and sighed. They had to walk out the door in five minutes. She sprayed on her favorite body spray, breathing the scent. It was her favorites; berries and vanilla.

"Babe, are you ready?" she heard Frankie call down the hall. She smiled to herself, shaking her head. Parenthood suited them. AJ and Frankie were her life now and she couldn't see it without them in it.

* * *

><p>Frankie watched his wife walk down the hall, a pair of nude pumps in hand. His heart swelled as he took in the beautiful sight in front of him. Her dark hair fell down her back in curls, her toned legs exposed from her sinfully tight black dress. Her makeup was light and smoky, her pink lips dark red with lipstick. He could smell the body spray and had to keep himself from nuzzling her. The heels she slipped on made her legs look even longer.<p>

"What?" she said, slipping on her silver cuff bracelet to complete the ensemble. She rolled her eyes and walked over to him, fixing his tie. "You were never good at fixing these," she commented. Frankie kissed her bare shoulder, moving his mouth to her neck.

"We could always skip Evan's party and stay in," he suggested. Isabella's head moved a little, her baby blue eyes sparkling devilishly.

"Honestly, I hoped you wouldn't ask that, because I am so game to take you up on that," she replied. He closed his mouth over hers in a gentle kiss. "If you can wait until we get home, I'll make it very much worth your while." Her hand slid down his cheek and she stretched on her toes to kiss him.

"Ew, I walked in at the wrong time," Jane commented, wrinkling her nose in annoyance. Frankie pulled away from Isabella to glare at his sister. "Where's the baby?"

"She's in her bouncy seat, watching Fresh Beat Band," he replied.

"You're a lucky man, Frankie. Six months after having AJ, your wife looks like a freaking supermodel," Angela remarked from the doorway. Isabella had complained about her body only yesterday, but Frankie preferred the way she looked now. She was curvy in the right places, her hips and breasts fuller than before. "You got a little something on your mouth, it looks like lipstick." Angela wiped at her son's mouth and Frankie jerked his head back.

"Ma, I'm a grown man," he complained. Isabella released her hold on his neck and picked up AJ from her aunt's arms. "You sure you're gonna be okay with leaving her overnight?" he asked when he saw his wife bury their child in her arms. AJ squirmed, letting out a shriek of annoyance. She definitely had her mother's temper.

"You didn't think we created this little bundle by holding hands, did you?" Isabella said with a wink. "That's what my mom always told me; holding hands with a boy was gonna get me pregnant."

"Yeah, I had two boys and a husband. Believe me, I know how babies get made," Angela declared. Frankie's father hadn't really liked Isabella when he had met her, but that suited her just fine because she hadn't really liked him either. "Especially with how you two are."

"What are you talking about, Mama Rizzoli? I'm a virgin," Isabella called from the living room, fluttering her eyelashes innocently. Jane snorted next to her in laughter. Isabella set down her daughter with giggles. AJ giggled next to her. "Yeah, I can't say that with a straight face."

"I don't want to hear about you taking advantage of my son," Angela stated. "You two should get out of here before you're late."

"Well, I don't go for the guys who say 'no'," Isabella replied, picking up her purse. "And believe me, he doesn't say it when he sees this." She stuck out her tongue, baring the piercing.

* * *

><p>"Don't make jokes about our sex life to my mother, I'll never hear the end of it," Frankie commented on the couch after the engagement party. Isabella grinned at him, taking a sip of her water. After all the champagne, he had to cut her off when she started getting tipsy.<p>

"Fine, no more sex jokes," she promised. "Think Evan and Robert are gonna make it?"

"No one thought we were and here we are now," he pointed out. Her grin faded to a smile and she nodded.

"True. Not even I thought we'd get where we are now. Now we got that little terrorist in the other room and we're complete," she replied. She held out her water bottle. "To us?"

He touched it with his water bottle and leaned over, kissing her gently. "To us," he agreed.


End file.
